Astral
by foolondahill17
Summary: "You know what side we're on, right, Tori?" Astoria returns to Hogwarts for her second year and confronts the dark secrets of her past. Against the backdrop of the Triwizard Tournament and the looming second war, Astoria sets out to connect the pieces and stumbles upon a bit of self-discovery. The unknown tale of Astoria Greengrass – book two in the Of the Stars series
1. Chapter 1

Title: Astral

Summary: "You know what side we're on, right, Tori?" Astoria returns to Hogwarts for her second year and confronts the dark secrets of her past. Against the backdrop of the Triwizard Tournament and the looming second war, Astoria sets out to connect the pieces and stumbles upon a bit of self-discovery. The unknown tale of Astoria Greengrass – book two in the Of the Stars series

Rated: K+, for mild angst and minor character death

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

Author's Note: This is a sequel to _Luminescence_, which relates Astoria Greengrass' first year at Hogwarts. For those who are interested, you can find it on my profile, but please don't feel that it's required.

I am posting this against my better judgment as I don't have much of the rest written and I'm afraid that could lead to updating delays in the future. Hopefully not, but be warned.

* * *

Astral

Of the Stars, Year Two

Chapter One – Of Riots and Return Journeys:

"Hurry up, Tori."

Daphne's fingers were entwined around Astoria's wrist, slipping because of sweat but insistent.

Rebounding flashes of light, pounding footsteps, and screams followed them. There was a note of panic in Daphne's voice, something Astoria had never heard before. Daphne was usually so calm, so icily collected like their mother.

Astoria's heart was pulsing in her throat, making it difficult to breathe. Her chest was constricted.

Her Aunt's voice echoed in her mind _go up into the woods. Stay out of sight. Your uncle or myself will find you when it's safe._

Implying this wasn't safe. Implying hide because you might be hurt.

Orange light sprung up behind them, casting flickering shadows onto the face of the forest. Fire. Some of the tents were on fire. Astoria wildly thought of their tent, the one with sign marked _Lelantos_ out front saying it belonged to her uncle. She thought of Aunt Aquila and Uncle Varro and those – those people who were inciting the riot, and – and….

Astoria's toe caught on a protruding root and before she knew what had happened her knees scraped painfully against the ground. She heard her voice leave her lips in a scream as Daphne's fingers were wrenched free of hers.

"_Daphne_ –_!_" what was Astoria supposed to do. She couldn't think. Everything around her was dark except for the flashing multicolored lights. People were running. People were yelling. People were shooting spells at random. People were setting fire to tents –

"Astoria! Hurry _up_!" Daphne hands caught under Astoria's armpits and hauled her to her feet.

Astoria tripped forward, guided once again by the sharp pressure of Daphne's hand around her wrist. She ran until she couldn't breathe. Her legs flew up wildly behind her, kicking up mud and dirt that hit her in the back of the head. It was so funny that little details like that kept emerging from the tangle of darkness and panic.

Astoria could feel sweat dribbling down her back. She could hear Daphne's ragged breathing beside her. She caught a glimpse of swirling brown hair, and a tripping smaller figure as a mother and her son overtook the sisters.

They broke through the barrier of the wood and suddenly twigs and leaves were slapping their faces and grasping at their pajama sleeves. Daphne dragged Astoria further onward, dodging tree trunks that materialized out of the darkness.

This was not supposed to have happened. This could not be happening. It wasn't fair. This was supposed to be an exciting, surprise getaway with her aunt, uncle, and sister. It was supposed to have been _fun_.

Astoria tripped over another root but this time Daphne saved her from falling. Their pace was slowing now, finally Daphne staggered to a halt with her back against a tree. She released Astoria and hugged her arms around her chest, gasping to catch her breath.

Astoria leaned against another tree, feeling as if her legs had turned to jelly. She half-wondered if she should sink to the ground, or if Daphne would yell at her for getting her pajamas dirty.

Astoria could still hear the crashes and yelling that was the riot in the campsite behind them. She could no longer see anything for the trees that obscured her view. In the darkness around her she could hear other people who'd taken shelter in the wood. Occasionally she caught sight of a glint of an eye or a flash of light from a lumos-tipped wand.

"I – think – we're far enough – in," gasped Daphne through large, gulping lungful's of air.

Astoria had trouble gathering her thoughts. Everything had happened so quickly. One moment she had been discussing the match with her aunt and uncle, another moment and she had been climbing into bed, and the next she was being hastily roused by Aunt Aquila and told to stay close to Daphne and make her way to the wood. That had been when she'd become aware that the campsite outside their tent was not at all how it was supposed to be. People had been running and shrieking, and all the flashing lights, and pounding footsteps –

"Daphne, what _was_ that?" Astoria realized she was shaking. She pushed a lock of her dirty-blond hair behind her ear, trying to control the trembling in her fingers.

"I don't know," Daphne's voice did not sound like Daphne's voice. She sounded tight and panicky, as if she too was trembling. "Just – just some people who had too much to drink…."

"They – they were all marching forward like – like they were organized –"

"They were just some drunks, Astoria. I'm sure it."

"They were wearing masks," Astoria felt her throat close, as if it was unwilling to let her words come up. She felt sick, a feeling she got when she had run too fast for too long. But she suspected it had something more to do with it than that.

Daphne didn't answer. She brushed her hair out of her eyes.

It was just cold enough that Astoria's breath fogged in the air outside her lips. She watched the vapor rise in front of her face and dissipate into the night air. Daphne did not speak. Astoria could hear the frantic muttering of people around her, doing headcounts and asking if everyone was alright.

Slowly Astoria's heart ceased to beat quite so insistently in her chest. She wondered where Aunt Aquila and Uncle Varro were. She wondered if they had gone to help stop the riot…or whatever it had been.

Astoria shivered when she remembered the gleam of silver she had seen amongst the wall of confusion. For a moment she had thought she was looking at a human skull, before she realized it was only a twisted replica – a mask to hide whomever was part of the riot.

Her stomach roiled. For a moment she thought she was going to throw up. She focused on filling her lungs with air, large breaths to calm herself, get a hold on herself.

She had never seen masks like that before, but she had heard of them.

"I didn't want to come to this stupid match anyway," said Daphne. Astoria could tell her sister's teeth were chattering.

"No one forced you to come," snapped Astoria. She wondered why she had. Something about Daphne's tone, when Astoria was still feeling so frantic, and shivery, and confused, had rubbed her the wrong way.

"And no one _asked you_," Daphne retorted.

Astoria almost had to physically bite her tongue in order to suppress her angry reply. Not now, when they were hidden in a dark wood, lost to what was happening on the campsite, woken in the middle of the night and wearing pajamas.

Astoria crossed her arms, trying to rub warmth back into her arms.

"You're not scared, are you?"

Something in Daphne's voice sounded like a sneer.

"No," said Astoria quickly. Of course she wasn't _scared_. She didn't know what was happening. She wanted her aunt and uncle to find them. She wanted to go home. She wanted to get back to bed. But she wasn't _scared_.

"You'd better not be scared," leered a voice from the darkness. Astoria jumped, her back hitting a tree. A thin boy with ratty, dust-brown hair, came into the clearing. He was wearing a smirk and robes instead of pajamas.

"Theo!" Daphne squealed, her voice half-excited, half-alarmed at his sudden appearance.

"Hello, Daphne, thought it was your voice I heard."

Astoria tried to quiet the thumping of her heart. It was Theodor Nott – Astoria knew all about Theodor Nott. Daphne's…friend.

She felt a sudden rush of heat in her cheeks that was not from embarrassment, but more like anger. He hadn't any right to barge in on them like he did.

"I didn't know you were at the match," said Daphne. She sounded half-disappointed, half-accusatory, as if she was annoyed at him for not letting her know.

"I didn't know _you_ were here," he said. Astoria saw him shrug his shoulders through the poor lighting.

"My uncle surprised us with tickets," said Daphne. "He was planning on going with people from work but my aunt made him take us instead."

Theodore Nott, from the expression on his face that Astoria could see through the darkness, looked thoroughly unconcerned. Theodore Nott did not have a very nice face, from what Astoria could see of it. It was thin and pale, and the shadows only served to make his nose point out further, and eyes look beadier and more deep-set.

Astoria didn't know what Daphne saw in him.

"Anyway," he continued, "_you_ don't have to be afraid. They're not after purebloods."

"You know who they are?" said Astoria before she could stop herself. It wasn't her place – but she wanted to _know_.

Nott turned his face toward hers. She could tell he rose his eyebrows because the shadows covering his eyes grew longer. "You don't?" he sneered. "Who are you, anyway –"

"Oh, that's just my little sister," said Daphne hastily, as if she longed to push Astoria into a corner. "Tori."

The corner of his lip quirked but he didn't greet Astoria. Astoria wondered if he was laughing at her and felt her cheeks burn hotter – still anger. She wasn't embarrassed. She refused to be embarrassed.

"She isn't Hogwarts age, is she?" he asked. "I haven't seen her in Slytherin."

They needn't talk about her as if Astoria wasn't standing _right there_.

"Oh no," Daphne voice sounded rushed, shamefaced, "she's in Ravenclaw."

"Oh," said Nott, and nothing else. His lip was still quirked.

Astoria focused on breathing through her nose, focused on not inching her fingers toward her wand – but then she realized she had left her wand at home. After all, she wasn't allowed to use magic outside of school – without her mother's supervision, that is – so what was the point of carrying it, anyway.

But suddenly she felt horribly defenseless and vulnerable without it, given what had happened. Not as if she could have done anything to protect herself, anyway. She only had a first-years' magical education and that wouldn't do much good against drunken curses, and rioters.

Daphne and Nott were discussing other things. Astoria turned away and stared spitefully into the darkness toward the campsite, trying to see anything that was happening.

Merlin, if Daphne and Theodore Nott ever decided to get married, Astoria would not come to the wedding. She suppressed a shiver. What a horrid brother-in-law.

_Daphne Nott_, what a stupid name.

"Have you heard what's happening at Hogwarts this year?" said Nott's voice behind Astoria.

Daphne hesitated. Immediately Astoria discerned that Daphne did _not_ know, but was unwilling to admit it.

"Erm – I don't know, exactly…."

"Dad told me," said Nott triumphantly. "He works in the IMC, so of course he knows all about it."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah. I don't suppose I'm really allowed to tell you if you don't know…."

"But I know _a little_ about it."

"Well, maybe it wouldn't hurt to tell you. If you promised not to tell anyone else. It's top secret –"

Unconsciously, Astoria had turned her head slightly so she could hear better.

"I promise. I won't tell a soul."

"Good, in that case –"

Just at that moment there was a resounding crack, and a rush that sounded like wind. Suddenly the wood was bathed in green light. Astoria felt her heart patter in alarm as she looked through the tree branches above her, trying to get a good look at the sky.

Something glowing and colored a poisonous green was hovering above the wood to the other side of the campsite. Astoria closed one eye to try to discern its shape. She thought of the Irish team's leprechauns – the ones who had performed before the match. She wondered if this whole thing, the riot and the drunken, masked people were all some kind of wild prank to celebrate their win….

She caught sight of a skull-like form, and a winding a tongue that was a writhing serpent –

Daphne screamed. Astoria jumped so violently she tripped over her heel and landed hard on the ground. She looked quickly over her shoulder, heart slamming against her ribs. She hadn't even thought to ask Daphne what was wrong. More screams were echoing throughout the wood.

Daphne had covered her face with her hands. She was shaking all over and leaning against a tree for support. Beside her, Nott was unmoved. He stared at the glowing ornament in the sky, which illuminated his face with a sickly green and glinted in his eyes. He looked enthralled.

Astoria eyes threw themselves back to the green skull hanging in the sky. She felt her stomach clench. Something swam hazily in her mind, a recollection from her childhood, something that was important but that Astoria couldn't remember.

It – that – the skull meant something. She knew it.

Daphne's scream seemed to echo in Astoria's skull. Even though she didn't know why she should, Astoria shrank from the skull. It was ugly, terrible looking, surely spoke something of death –

"Daphne! Astoria!" she heard the shouts in the back of her mind but did nothing to acknowledge them. She had thoughts only for the glowing figure in the sky, erasing the stars with its brilliance.

"Daphne! Astoria!" the shouts were getting closer and more insistent.

"Aunt Aquila!" Daphne's voice was piercing and shaky. She sounded panicked, frantic, frightened…Astoria looked back to her sister to see if it was really Daphne whom spoke. "We're over here!"

There was the sound of crashing underbrush and Aunt Aquila suddenly emerged from the trees. She rushed to embrace Daphne. "Oh _dears_!" Astoria's aunt was even paler than Daphne. She seemed to glow in the darkness. She was trembling so hard she made Daphne vibrate in her arms. "Are you alright? You aren't hurt? I was so _worried_ –"

"I'm fine," whispered Daphne tremulously. She pointed a shaking figure over her aunt's shoulder to the skull over the trees. "Aunt Aquila, we – have to get out –"

"Don't look at it, dear. You're alright. You're safe."

"What is it?" the voice leapt unannounced from Astoria's lips. She chided herself. Now was not the time to ask questions. Besides, she did not know that she wanted to know the answer.

Her aunt released Daphne and flew to embrace Astoria, pulling her up off the ground and wrapping her arms tightly around her waist. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Astoria answered. "What is it?"

"It's the Dark Mark," hissed a voice behind her. Astoria jumped and turned around, but recognized her uncle almost immediately. His face was waxy looking. Beads of sweat rolled off his large, hooked nose. Astoria had never imagined her uncle could look frightened. The sight unnerved her almost more than anything else that had happened that night.

The Dark Mark. She felt gooseflesh erupt over her arms. She had heard of it. She had never seen it before but – of course – the Dark Mark. How could it have been anything else?

It was You-Know-Who's mark, left by him or his followers when there had been murder…. Astoria remembered the marching cloaked figures with the silver, skull-like masks. They had been shooting spells, setting fire to tents – Astoria thought she might be sick again.

"We need to leave," said Uncle Varro, his voice tight.

"Did you – help sort all that out, at the campsite?" said Astoria. She wondered how she could continue to ask questions, even now when her mind was racing, wind roaring in her ears, thoughts ricocheting off the walls of her skull. She supposed it was a natural tendency, born of being a Ravenclaw.

"No," said Uncle Varro brusquely. "I collected our things and then we came to get you. I hadn't meant for you girls to run quite so far into the wood."

"It's lucky you did," said Aunt Aquila. She'd released Astoria and was wiping her eyes with shaking hands. She was trying to avoid looking at the Dark Mark as though even staring at it might cause physical harm. "I can't imagine what Lyra would say if one of who had gotten hurt under my watch."

"Come along," said Uncle Varro. He wrapped his fingers tightly around Astoria's wrist and pulled her to his side. Aunt Aquila got hold of Daphne. "Let's get out of here."

Astoria could not have agreed more. He twisted sharply and the wood around them dissolved into a swirl of color and sound. She had forgotten about Theodore Nott, whom was left standing in the clearing, basking in the glow of the Mark.

* * *

Astoria closed her eyes and opened them a moment later as she rushed through the barrier between the Muggle world and Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Her cart rattled in front of her. She heard a scrape of wheels against stone as Daphne appeared, pushing her own cart.

"You'll be sure to be good this year?" said their mother, Lyra Greengrass, over her shoulder.

"Yes, Mum,"

"And you'll be careful?"

Astoria answered in unison with Daphne. "Yes, Mum."

"And you'll write?"

"Yes, Mum."

"And you'll do well in class?"

"_Yes_, Mum," said Daphne. Astoria couldn't see her sister roll her eyes, but she could hear it in her voice.

Lyra Greengrass came to a halt and surveyed her daughters, eyes slightly narrowed but smiling. "Good. Daphne make sure to keep an eye on Tori?"

"_Mum_," protested Astoria, joined in a chorus with Daphne.

Her mother laughed, a short, brusque thing that she had perfected through years of a personal business-first policy. She curtly wrapped one arm around Astoria's shoulders, "Love you, dear, have fun this year. I'm sure you will."

"Oh, that reminds me," Daphne said, "Theo was saying something about it at the World Cup. Is there anything special happening at Hogwarts this year? He said his father said…."

"I'm really not allowed to tell you," her mother intercepted.

"Mum," Daphne wined, "you've never cared about stupid regulations like that before –"

"I care when we're in a public place like this, Daphne," said Lyra Greengrass, roving the platform with her eyes. Astoria watched the other clustered families littered about the station. She felt her stomach fall in disappointed. She had wanted to hear what it was that was happening at Hogwarts.

"Besides," their mother continued, hugging Daphne good-bye in turn, "you'll find out soon enough."

"Then there is something happening?"

"Aren't you the shrewd little Slytherin?" said Lyra Greengrass, almost rolling her eyes in a move that would look very much like Daphne. "Yes, dear, there _is_ something happening at Hogwarts this year."

Daphne pouted but didn't say anything. Clearly she had realized it wasn't wise to press the issue. Their mother finished with saying her farewells and Astoria and Daphne headed toward the Hogwarts Express. Daphne ran off to find her friends before the sisters boarded, something Astoria was grateful for.

Astoria did not want Daphne present when Astoria met her friends because one of those friends was a Muggle-born. Astoria had met Sara Hibburt the year before. At first Astoria had thought Sara was an annoying, ignorant, clingy little girl. They had fought, ignored each other, and then, wonder-of-wonders, somehow made up and become friends. Astoria had even managed to look past the fact that Sara was a Muggle-born and Astoria, herself, was pureblood.

Daphne hadn't.

Their mother didn't know. But if she did, Astoria was certain her mother would not be able to look past the fact, either.

Astoria had been able to gloss over her friendship with Sara over the summer; it wasn't as though her mother confiscated her mail, after all. She felt slightly bad about deceiving her mother. It wasn't something she normally did. She didn't want Lyra Greengrass to know her youngest daughter had been lying to her, had been hiding things behind her back, had befriended a Muggle-born….

Astoria dragged her trunk into a compartment and set out to search for familiar faces. Her stomach was squirming with a mixture of guilt and fear. She unconsciously glanced out the windows as she passed, looking to see if her mother was still on the station.

"Astoria!"

Astoria turned at the sound of her name and smiled, recognizing immediately the girl who wove her way through the cluster of older students in the hallways. She was sweating and breathing hard, dragging her trunk behind her.

"I'm so happy I found you," said Melissa Jordan nervously, pulling up next to Astoria. "Where are you sitting? I didn't know where to go. I haven't found Sara yet but needed to put down my trunk…."

Rarely had Astoria heard Melissa talk so much. She was a shy, jittery girl whom twisted her fingers in her lap and generally stayed out of the way. She had milk chocolate skin and dark chocolate eyes and a tangle of matted black hair that was usually set in a maze of braids pulled tightly across her scalp.

"Come on," said Astoria. "I'm over this way." They made their way back through the crowded corridor. Melissa hung closely behind Astoria's shoulder, giving Astoria the impression she was hiding from something.

She was suddenly pointedly aware that it had been a whole summer since she had last seen Melissa. She didn't know quite what she was supposed to say.

"So…how was Holiday?" Astoria asked, when it became apparent that Melissa was not going to strike up a conversation. Astoria had never known Melissa to speak first.

"Alright," said Melissa, a shrug in her voice.

"What did you do?"

"I went to my grandparents for a week."

"Oh…that sounds nice."

"What did you do?"

"Nothing much," Astoria had mostly hung around her house. She had never before realized how boring home was, in contrast to the bustle of Hogwarts. She was happy to be going back. "I went to the World Cup," she added, even though she was mutually sure Melissa didn't care very much about Quidditch.

"Really?" said Melissa, "my brothers went with my dad. Mum and I stayed home, though. How was it?"

"Alright," Astoria answered. "I was disappointed with Bulgaria. The only reason they even got in was because of Krum."

"Oh…really?" said Melissa, evidently not even aware that Bulgaria had played.

They reached Astoria's compartment and Astoria helped Melissa lift her trunk onto the racks. They sat down across from each other. Astoria tried to think about what else to say. She figured that after a whole _season_ they should have plenty to catch up on.

"So," said Melissa tentatively, "were you there – at the Cup – you know, when the riot…?"

"Oh, yeah," said Astoria hastily. She felt an odd clench in her stomach at the memory. She didn't want to talk about the riot. "I was there."

"Did you see…?"

"No," Astoria lied. "My uncle and aunt apparated us away before we could."

Melissa shuddered. "It must have been terrifying."

_It had been_. But Astoria didn't tell people things like that.

There was an excessively cheerful sounding tap on the glass door.

"Sara!" cried Melissa in delight, hopping up from the bench. Astoria turned to see through the transparent sliding door. Sara Hibburt, complete with a beaming smile, slid it open and stepped into the compartment.

Sara had long brown hair, usually in a ponytail, swinging in perpetual motion as she bobbed up at down in an almost inhuman amount of enthusiasm. It spilled out of her pores. She was always smiling, always laughing, always asking questions.

"Melissa!" she shrieked, "Astoria!"

She enveloped Melissa in an embrace. Astoria only just stood up from her bench in time to have Sara's arms thrown around her in turn. Astoria was barely able to register Sara's appearance before the Muggle-born began to talk:

"It's _so_ good to see you! I missed you both so much! I'm so happy to be going back! Did you both have a good Holiday? What did you do? Mine was fantastic! It was so good being with Mum and Dad for so long. But I'm so happy to be back, now! I missed Hogwarts. Who knew someone could ever miss school?"

Melissa was laughing. Astoria felt a smile creep onto her face. Unexpectedly she didn't feel at all irritated by Sara's spiel. Unexpectedly, she felt as if she had almost missed it.

"What about you, Melissa? How was your summer?"

"It was fine –"

"And, Astoria, what about you?"

"It was alright, I guess," Astoria sat back down on the bench. Sara sat beside Melissa, hands flying in front of her as she babbled.

"Anything exciting happen? I went to the fair one weekend with my family. Then I spent a week with my grandparents. My brother and I went to see the _Lion King_ – oh, but you guys haven't hear of that, have you? It's a Disney films. It was really good."

Sara had tried unsuccessfully to explain Muggle cinema to Astoria last winter. Astoria had not been able to grasp the concept of Muggle photographs moving, like magical ones, except that they spoke and told a story and were put on a gigantic screen for Muggles to sit in front of with popcorn and fizzy soft drinks.

Astoria felt the floor of the compartment rattle and heard the whirl of the train's wheels that meant the Hogwarts Express had left the station.

"Astoria went to the Quidditch World Cup," Melissa said when Sara finally drew breath.

"Really?" said Sara, "Was it good? That would have been amazing to see."

Astoria felt her stomach squirm, a mixture of discomfort at suddenly being thrust into the spotlight, and guilt because she had also thought that perhaps Sara would have like to go. But – it wasn't as though Astoria could have brought her. Her aunt and uncle would not have allowed it. Daphne – Daphne would have been a nightmare. Her mother would have discovered Astoria was friends with a Muggle-born.

"It was alright."

"Who won?" Sara continued. "Who was even playing?"

"Ireland and Bulgaria. Ireland won."

"Did you hear about what happened afterward?" Melissa asked shyly.

"No," said Sara, turning her full, wide-eyed enthusiasm on Melissa. "What happened?"

"It was all over the _Prophet_. There was a riot or something."

"Really?" said Sara. "That must have been so exciting!"

"Scary, you mean," said Melissa.

"Were you there for that, too, Astoria?" Sara asked.

Astoria shrugged. "They were just some people who had too much to drink while celebrating. It wasn't a big deal."

"What about the – the Dark Mark?" Melissa whispered.

"What's a Dark Mark?"

Astoria did not want to talk about this. Mercifully there was another knock on the door. Astoria turned and felt her stomach plummet.

"_Stephan_!" Sara shrieked. She jumped up and flung open the door. She hurled herself at the first of the two boys who stood in the doorway and wrapped her arms tightly around his waist. Over Sara's shoulder, Astoria saw Stephan Edgecombe's face turn slightly pink.

"Hi, Sara, it's nice to see you, too," he said, almost breathlessly from how tightly Sara was squeezing his chest. His eyes roved the compartment and fell on Astoria. His face darkened. Astoria glared right back.

Astoria did not like Stephan Edgecombe and he did not like her. It had started last year after she and Sara had become friends. He had come up to her once and told her that he did not trust her, because she was pureblood and Sara was Muggle-born and surely Astoria had ulterior motives. _Ulterior motives!_

Well, Astoria hadn't any ulterior motives and Stephan Edgecombe hadn't any right to think so.

Stephan tore his gaze away from Astoria's and back to Sara, whom was talking again:

"It's been so long! I've missed you so much! But I was so happy each time I got one of your letters! How are you! Oh – hi, Mark, I didn't even notice you!" Sara addressed the second of the boys, Mark Clearwater, whom stood behind Stephan.

He smiled and said to them all, "Hey. Summer went well?"

"More than well," said Sara. "How was yours?"

Mark shrugged. "Okay, I guess. Stephan and I went to the Cup together."

"Really?" said Sara brightly. "Astoria went to the Cup, too. We were all just talking about it."

Clearly Sara had a poor memory, and did not recall that when Stephan Edgecombe was present, Astoria would rather be kept out of it – lest he got the wrong impression that she was talking to _him_.

"We were discussing the riot," Sara continued, "Did you both see it?"

"Yeah," said Mark, "It was awesome. Everyone was panicking and tents were blowing up –"

"It wasn't awesome," Stephan snapped, clearly his aggression was not directed at Mark, but at the presence of Astoria. She felt herself frown at him. "People were torturing Muggles."

Sara's face fell, "That – that's terrible. I didn't know that."

"It's not true," Astoria heard her voice leave her lips before she could stop it. "It's just another one of the rumors flying around – like people had been killed. It's all ridiculous. No one was hurt."

"Of course someone was killed," Stephan sneered, "Didn't you see the Dark Mark? But of course you probably weren't even there –"

"Of course I was there!" Astoria felt angry, boiling blood pound in her head. "It wasn't so scary."

"I never said it was scary," Stephan snapped. "I wasn't _scared_."

"Yes, well _I_ wasn't either," Astoria crossed her arms over her chest. She wished she could bore fiery, melting holes into his head just by glaring.

Sara looked from Stephan to Astoria unhappily. Mark hovered behind Stephan anxiously, as though waiting to see if he should have to intervene. As ever, Melissa had melted into the background, looking worried and biting her nails.

"Come on, Stephan," Mark mumbled, "Let's go back to the compartment. It was nice seeing you all –"

"Yeah," Stephan said nastily, not taking his eyes off Astoria. "I didn't realize _she_ was here when I came in." Mark immediately looked anxious, clearing trying to convey that hadn't been what he meant.

Astoria felt Stephan's words rebound off of her, as if she was wearing a chest plate. She had ceased to be hurt by Stephan's words, but wondered if she might still hurt him.

"No one asked you to come bother us," she said.

"Guys," said Sara, half-worried, half-exasperated. "Can you just stop it, please? I thought you'd have forgotten it all over the summer. I don't even know why you don't like each other."

Stephan blushed under Sara's chiding, but said through clenched teeth, "It doesn't concern you, Sara. See you at the feast." He and Mark left before Astoria could think up anything else to say.

An odd, pressing, uncomfortable silence descended on the compartment. Astoria sat back down when she realized she had gotten to her feet. Sara sat across from her, beside Melissa again, and frowned.

"Don't say it," Astoria warned, catching Sara's eyes and not liking the way they looked.

"Say what?" said Sara.

"That Stephan and I should just forget it and try to be friends."

"Forget what?" said Sara.

Astoria hesitated. That wasn't really in context of their conversation – "What do you mean?"

"See!" Sara replied, "even you don't know what you and Stephan are fighting about."

"He," Astoria sputtered, "he – insulted me! Besides I don't – doesn't have anything to do – I don't want to talk about it!" She folded her arms over her chest again, and fought the blush creeping up her cheeks.

Sara sighed, "Just don't pull your wands out at each other, or anything."

"He wouldn't be worth it," Astoria retorted.

"So," Melissa piped up, quietly and unexpectedly. Sara and Astoria turned to stare at her. "With Professor Lupin gone who do you think we'll get at Defense Professor?"

The question served as the distraction it was intended to be. Sara and Melissa began discussing the coming school year and after a minute Astoria joined them. She didn't want something as irritating as Stephan Edgecombe to come between _this_ friendship, after all.

* * *

Author's Note: Uhg, I hate first chapters. So much to explain and so little space to cram it all into…hopefully none of this sounded too forced.

I'll be hopefully updating sometime over the weekends, shooting for Saturday morning but there might be a couple of Friday's mixed in, as well as a Sunday or two in case I'm running late.

I hope you enjoyed this. Please drop a review if you did. Thanks!


	2. An Announcement

Author's Note: Ah, listening to the Beatles Let it Be album while I write this…amazing. Not that that had anything to do with the actually story, or anything.

Thank you for the reviews. It is very good to be back.

* * *

Chapter Two – An Announcement:

Astoria followed Sara through the towering, oak front doors of the entrance hall, hastening to get out of the torrential rain.

"I'm so happy we didn't have to cross the lake again this year –" Sara was saying, and shrieked. Astoria barely had time to register something small and blue pelting towards her, before it collided with the floor in front of her and Sara's feet. It exploded and doused the bottom of her robe and shoes with icy water.

Melissa, not realizing Astoria had come to an abrupt halt, bumped her from behind. Astoria skidded across the stone floor but caught hold of Sara's arm before she could fall.

"Ouch!" said Sara.

"Already wet, aren't they? Little squirts!" cackled the colorful, squat man floating near the ceiling: Peeves the Poltergeist, "Wheeeeeeeeee!"' he dived toward their heads, aiming another water balloon.

"Watch out!" Melissa shrieked, ducking behind Astoria's back.

The other students in the entrance hall ran to get out of the way, slipping on the sodden floor. "I shall call the Headmaster!" Professor McGonagall's voice rang out, authoritative and exasperated. Astoria had only just realized she was there. "I'm warning you Peeves –"

Peeves stuck out his tongue and threw the last balloon into the air. It splashed on a fifth-year's head and Peeves cackled, swooping away up the wide, marble stairwell and evidently thinking of more mischief.

"Well, move along, then!"' McGonagall barked to the crowd of students in the entrance hall and the others trying to press in through the doors and out of the rain. "Into the Great Hall, come on!"

Astoria let go of Sara and made her way across the hall, shoes slipping and sloshing with water. Sara and Melissa clung to each other for balance in case one should slip. They dodged the cursing fifth year, whose hair clung to his forehead from the water, and entered the Great Hall.

The Hall glowed with warmth, candlelight, and laughter. Above them the enchanted ceiling showed swirling purple clouds. Rain spattered and dripped down its slope.

"Urg!" Sara groaned, "my socks are all wet!"

So were Astoria's. She wiggled her toes and shook her feet, trying to disperse the water. In her mind she was calling Peeves all the ugly names she had ever learned.

Melissa stifled a giggle.

"There's nothing to laugh at," said Astoria. "_You_ didn't get hit."

Melissa only laughed harder, pressing her hand to her mouth. Sara undid her shoes and inspected her gray and dripping socks.

"You don't know a spell that could help, do you?" she asked Astoria. "Any sort of drying charm, or something?"

"No," Astoria replied.

"Why don't they teach us anything useful here?" Sara grumbled.

"It isn't the teaching that's useful; it would be the absorption of those things taught," said a dreamy, floating voice behind them. Astoria whirled around and her eyes fell on a thin, willowy girl with protuberant silver eyes and straggly dirty-blond hair.

"Don't you think?" said Luna Lovegood, smiling faintly.

Luna Lovegood was largely known as a girl to avoid, and Astoria accordingly did so. She had no idea what had possessed the girl to come over. Then again, Luna Lovegood had never before needed a reason. In fact, reason had very little to do with her.

"Erm – yes," said Sara, smile faltering. "I suppose that's true."

"Did you notice how wet it is in the entrance hall?" Lovegood continued. "Someone might slip if they weren't watching."

Melissa stuffed her fist in her mouth to muffle a giggle.

"I'm sorry," Lovegood added, looking from Sara to Astoria to Melissa, "was I interrupting? If I was, I can leave. I know people usually don't want me around."

"No, not at all," said Sara hastily. "You can sit with us if you'd like."

Astoria wildly began to think of some excuse – a reason that no, Luna Lovegood could _not_ sit with them, but then Lovegood replied:

"Oh thank you, I appreciate your pity. But I don't mind sitting alone. It's easier to look at people that way."

"Oh, okay…" said Sara uncertainly as Lovegood drifted away. Astoria stifled a sigh of relief. She watched as Mark and Stephan came in through doors. Astoria and Stephan exchanged scowls but he and Mark continued passed where the girls were sitting, taking benches farther down the Ravenclaw table.

Astoria felt a mingling sense of relief that she and Stephan had not had another confrontation, as well as a triumphant pull in her chest because it had been _Stephan_ to walk away – maybe she'd intimidated him.

"I think that's so sad," said Sara, staring after Luna Lovegood, who went to sit toward the end of the Ravenclaw table.

"What's sad?" said Astoria.

"That she thinks no one likes her," Sara continued, "maybe I will go sit with her –"

"No, don't," said Melissa, "the Sorting will be starting soon."

"Oh yeah," said Sara, brightening. "It'll be interesting to watch it from this end this year, won't it? Remember last year? I was so nervous."

"I thought I was going to faint. All those eyes," said Melissa, shuddering.

As if on cue the doors to the Great Hall clattered open and Professor McGonagall marched in, a trail of nervous, shivering, and dripping first-years in toe. Astoria watched them with an odd sense of nostalgia, also gratefulness that she was not now so tiny, or look quite so out-of-place.

The first-years lined up in front of the staff table, before them there was a three-legged stool, on which sat a familiar, battered old hat. Astoria had not been expecting the year before, but this time she was ready for when the large rip near the hat's brim opened like a mouth, and a song burst forth:

_A thousand years or more ago,  
When I was newly sewn,  
There lived four wizards of renown,  
Whose names are still well known:  
Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor,  
Fair Ravenclaw, from glen,  
Sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad,  
Shrewd Slytherin, from fen.  
They shared a wish, a hope, a dream,  
They hatched a daring plan  
To educate young sorcerers  
Thus Hogwarts School began._

The hat's voice was deep and crackly, like a warm fire. The line of first-years were staring in mute shock at it. The rest of the Hall had fallen respectfully silent.

Astoria could remember pointedly her own sorting: the sense of anticipation and nervousness. But she had also had at the time a feeling of certainty, because surely she would be sorted into Slytherin.

Her whole family had been in Slytherin. There was no other choice.

Astoria adjusted her Ravenclaw blue and bronze tie and wondered for the lack of disappointment she felt. Perhaps she had finally gotten over the divide of feeling horribly upset she hadn't gotten Slytherin and begun to feel truly like she belonged in Ravenclaw.

The Hat was finishing up:

_Now slip me snug about your ears,  
I've never yet been wrong,  
I'll have a look inside your mind  
And tell where you belong!_

"When I call out your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool," said Professor McGonagall, when the rest of the students had finished applauding the end of the song. "When the hat announces your house, you will go and sit at the appropriate table."

She straightened out the scroll of first-years' names with a flick of her wrist and called, "Ackerley, Stewart!"

The Sorting proceeded. Astoria wondered that it had not felt nearly this boring when it had been she waiting her turn. She watched as each first-year came forward and put the hat over their heads. She wondered if similar expressions had flitted across her own face: shock at hearing the hat's voice in her ear, excitement as it rattled off which house she might be suited, disappointed when it called out the one she had not expected…or perhaps she wasn't quite so transparent. Astoria liked to think so.

When the last first-year had run to the Hufflepuff table the Sorting Hat and stool were carried away and Professor Dumbledore – his long silver beard flowing down his front and his half-moon glasses resting on his crooked nose – stood and gave the assembled students a kindly smile, "I have only two words to say to you: _Tuck in._"

Sara laughed at Astoria's side and then cried in delight as the empty dishes filled with mound of food. Astoria wondered if, being a Muggle-born, the novelty of magic ever truly wore off.

"I can't believe we're back," said Sara, biting into a drumstick with one hand and scooping a lump of mashed potatoes onto her plate with the other. "Summer seemed to have passed so quickly."

"I'm happy to be back," said Melissa. "You know, besides the fact that we actually have to start school again."

"Did either of you notice the Defense Professor is missing?" Astoria asked, having glance at the Staff table and just realized the missing seat. "I wonder if Dumbledore hasn't found one yet."

"You're right," said Sara, looking over to the Staff Table herself. "He'd better find one by tomorrow."

"Maybe we just won't have Defense Against the Dark Arts this year," said Melissa hopefully.

"I'm still sad Professor Lupin won't be back," said Sara.

Astoria did not reply. Professor Lupin's departure was a touchy subject between Astoria and Sara. Professor Lupin was a _werewolf_, it was obvious he should not be living amongst healthy wizards, let alone be teaching their innocent children. Apparently Sara did not understand such views.

But she wished he wasn't a werewolf, if it only meant he might be able to return to teach.

Astoria had not realized how hungry she was before she began to eat. She, Sara, and Melissa talked and laughed with the rest of the students, the Hall buzzing with the sound of joyful chatter and clink of cutlery. The platters of food were steadily eaten away. Desserts appeared and were similarly consumed. Then the plates were swept gold and glittering, immaculate as they had been when the students had arrived.

Headmaster Dumbledore once again stood to his feet. The Hall quieted. All Astoria could hear was the storm beating against the walls of the castle and the heavy rain pattering on the roof. A crack of lightning illuminated the ceiling for a fraction of a second.

Dumbledore began, "So, now that we are all fed and watered, I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices."

Astoria leaned back in her bench and laid her hands on her stomach, wishing she hadn't eaten quite so fast or quite so quickly.

"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs," Dumbledore continued. "The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Filch's office, if anybody would like to check it."

Astoria had most likely heard all of this before. She pondered in a corner of her mind just what Mr. Filch – the withering, unpleasant old caretaker, usually accompanied by his dusty and wraithlike cat – would do to someone should he find them in the possession of a Fanged Frisbee.

Headmaster Dumbledore caught Astoria's attention again when he said, "It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."

Astoria remembered that Mark Clearwater, Stephan's friend, would no doubt be terribly disappointed. It was Ravenclaw first-year common knowledge that Mark Clearwater would someday be the youngest Chaser on England's national team. Then Astoria remembered that she didn't talk to Mark anymore, because she didn't talk to Stephan anymore.

Dumbledore raised a hand to quiet the mutterings of outrage that had met his announcement, "This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy – but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts –"

There was an enormous clap of thunder and the doors to the Great Hall were thrown open with a resounding clang. Sara gasped in alarm. Astoria whirled in her seat to see what had happened.

Standing in the open doorway, illuminated by a flash of lightning, stood the hulking silhouette of a man. He wore a long, hefty cloak and carried a stump of a walking stick in his right hand.

The man walked through the doors with a thumping limp, apparently undeterred by the sensation he had created. Astoria gaped at him as the man stumped passed her. She heard a dull thump as he walked, and wondered if perhaps his cloak hid a false leg. His face was hidden in the shadows of the storm bathed night and flickering candled, but she could tell he was scowling. She felt a shiver run up her spine, something that told her he was watching her. He was watching everyone, ready to pounce should one of them make a false move.

When the man reached the staff table he turned to face the students and a flash of lightning cast his face into sharp relief. Sara gasped again. Astoria felt her stomach clench.

The man's face was so twisted and defaced with scars one could hardly call it a face at all. A large chunk of his nose was missing and his mouth was reduced to a frowning, misshapen slit. But the most horrifying thing about his face were his eyes. One was sharp and beady and the other a stunning blue, perfectly round and rotating continuously in its socket. First it looked to the right, then to the left, then it turned white as it stared out from the back of the man's head. Astoria immediately realized it had been that eye that had created the sense of being watched, and as well felt a rush of recognition wash over her.

She had never seen him before but often heard of him. Surely it could not be anyone else –

"Moody!" she hissed to Sara. "It's Mad-Eye Moody!"

The stranger turned around to face Dumbledore and stuck his hand out across the table. Dumbledore somberly took the man's hand in his own. The man then ambled behind the Staff Table and sat down at the empty seat directly beside the Headmaster. The empty Defense Professor's chair.

"Who?" whispered Sara back to Astoria. Astoria had almost forgotten she'd even said anything; she was so perplexed and taken aback at the man's appearance.

"Moody," she whispered back to Sara. Somehow whispering just felt more appropriate. A stunned, tense hush had descended on the hall. "He's an ex-Auror –"

"What's an Auror?" Sara interrupted.

"He's that nutter who's always imagining Dark Lords attacking him," said someone across the table.

"But what's an Auror?" Sara insisted.

"Dark wizard catcher," Astoria explained, speaking from the corner of her mouth as she stared at the man sitting at the Staff Table. He speared a sausage with a knife, sniffed at it with his mutilated nose, and stuffed it into his mouth.

"I wonder what he's doing here," said Sara.

"May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" said Dumbledore's voice, cheerful, almost apologetic to break the pressing silence. "Professor Moody."

Astoria felt her lower jaw fall. First a werewolf, now this? A paranoid, crazy old codger whom had once blasted the hand off a delivery boy who'd forgotten to ring the bell? Or at least that was what the rumors told.

No one applauded Moody's admission to the Hogwart's staff except for Headmaster Dumbledore and the groundskeeper Hagrid, a monster of a man with a tangle of black hair and beard covering half his body. The sound echoed depressingly off the walls of the Hall and dispersed into the claps of thunder.

"As I was saying," began Dumbledore afresh, as if there had been no interruption, "we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century." In the fragment of a second it took the words to fall from Dumbledore's lips Astoria remembered what Theodore Nott had been talking about in the wood after the Cup. She forgot about Mad-Eye Moody. Her hand clenched in a wild throw of anticipation.

"It is my great pleasure to inform you," said Dumbledore, "that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

There was a moment of tangible silence in which it took for the tension to break and a boy from the Gryffindor table exclaimed, "You're JOKING!"

Laughter exploded throughout the Hall, lingering for longer than usual as shock and alarm at Mad-Eye Moody's unexpected appearance spilled away. Astoria felt her chest shake with laughter of her own. Excitement was making it difficult to think. She had heard about the Triwizard Tournament many times before, it was a thing of legend.

"I am _not_ joking, Mr. Weasley,"' Dumbledore said with a smile when the laughter had dissipated enough to hear, "though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar …."

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly and Headmaster Dumbledore abruptly remembered himself, "Er – but maybe this is not the time…no…. Where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament…well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those who _do _know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and will allow their attention to wander freely."

Astoria did not wonder if Dumbledore was serious about letting her attention wander or not. Her mind had already taken to flights of fancy. She saw herself holding a glowing, glorified trophy, rising in front of crowd, whom cheered her name –

"Did he say _death toll_?" Sara hissed.

Astoria shook herself out of her daydreams and whispered back, "It doesn't matter. It's perfectly safe now, I'm sure." Astoria was not concerned over deaths that had happened hundreds of years ago.

"There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament," Dumbledore continued, "none of which have been very successful. However, our own Department of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided the time is ripe for another attempt. We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that this time, no champion will himself or herself in mortal danger."

"See?" said Astoria, "perfectly safe."

"The Heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their shortlisted contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand galleons personal prize money."

In the corner of her eye Astoria saw Mark and Stephan exchange eager looks. _As if Stephan could ever win_…. Astoria visualized herself again, rising singly and above the rest of the students at Hogwarts.

Dumbledore's voice cut through sharply and cruelly, shattering fantasies, "Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard cup to Hogwarts, the Heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on the contenders this year. Only students who are of age – that is to say, seventeen or older – will be aloud to put forward their names for consideration."

Shouts of outrage began to rise from the students. Astoria felt disappointed pierce and burst the glimmering pictures of glory and riches, the trophy raised above her head –

Dumbledore raised his voice to be heard above the students, "This is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precaution we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion. I therefore beg you not to waist your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen."

Astoria again saw Mark and Stephan looking at each other and thought spitefully that they were no doubt considering that Dumbledore couldn't possibly put any restrictions or charms that _they_ couldn't get around.

Dumbledore said a few remaining words to them about the delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang and the expected whole-hearted support of the Hogwarts champion. He then dismissed them to bed.

Astoria stood from the table wit Sara and Melissa and began to make her way through all the other students who had all gotten up at the same time. She passed a group of tiny, frightened looking first-years, waiting for the instruction from a Prefect. She felt wonderful advised and sophisticated as she watched them.

"I don't quite understand," said Sara when they finally broke free of the crowd well enough so that they could breathe. "this Triwizard Tournament is really famous right? Like both of you have heard about it?"

"Of course," said Astoria. "There are tons of stories told about it."

"But why did they choose this particular year to bring it back?" said Sara.

"Who cares?" said Melissa, practically squealing with excitement. "This is so brilliant."

"I wonder who's going to be Hogwarts champion," said Astoria.

"And these two other schools Beauxbatons and Durmstrang," Sara continued, "they're magical schools, too?"

"Yeah, haven't you heard of them before?" said Astoria.

"Erm – no," said Sara. "I've never really thought about other magical schools before. But now that I do think about it, I guess it makes sense."

"Yeah, they're all over the place actually. There are different spells and such for different ethnic groups," said Melissa, demonstrating a rare occurrence when she volunteered information without any prompting.

"It stinks that we're all too young to enter," said Astoria.

Sara shrugged, "Like Headmaster Dumbledore said, the magic would probably be too advanced for us."

"Yeah, but still," Astoria insisted. "It stinks. I wouldn't mind a bit of that glory and riches."

Melissa shuddered. "I don't mind at all. It sounds dangerous."

They reached the alcove of the Ravenclaw tower stairs, turned off of the corridor and began to climb.

"I wonder what the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be like?" said Sara.

Melissa shrugged, "Probably a lot like us."

"Mum considered sending Daphne and I to Beauxbatons," said Astoria. "It's the most prominent western Europe magical academy, almost better than Hogwarts." And Beauxbatons did not have Dumbledore for a headmaster, which meant there would be no werewolves or paranoid ex-Aurors teaching classes. But Astoria left that part off.

"Really?" Sara said, then smiled "Well I'm glad she decided to send you here."

Melissa panted, "I'd forgotten how much of a drag these stairs are."

They were half-way up the tower and Astoria felt her calves burn.

"I hope Hogwarts champion is a Ravenclaw," said Sara.

"Yeah – me too," said Melissa, in between trying to catch her breath.

"Who do you think will enter?" said Astoria. They reached the landing in front of the Ravenclaw common room door. Astoria let the knocker hanging from the bronze eagle's talons fall against the wood.

"My brother probably will," said Melissa, sounding curiously unhappy. "Even though he'll technically be too young, I bet he tries to get around Dumbledore's enchantments."

"Don't worry, Melissa," said Sara as the eagle asked them a riddle in its chirping, musical voice. "I'm sure Dumbledore's good enough to stop him."

They answered the riddle and the door swung open to admit them.

"Wouldn't you want him to get in, though?" said Astoria, "What if he won?"

Melissa frowned. "I'd rather have him safe."

They cross the common room; it was unusually crowded with students up late to discuss the news of the Tournament. They climbed the stairs to the girls' dormitories and found the right door, now marked with the lettering: _second years_.

They entered the dormitory to find the two other girls who shared the dorm already present, Aurora Shaning and Tiffany Lanesingly. Astoria greeted the two girls and then starting preparing for bed.

Her mind was moving too quickly to sleep. The other girls climbed into their four-posters and Astoria lay back in her own, listening to their whispering through her curtains. She thought of Dumbledore's announcements, of Mad-Eye Moody's induction to the Hogwarts staff and the Triwizard Tournament – but mostly about the Triwizard Tournament. She fell asleep with visions of glory, the feel of the trophies handle clutched in her hand, and the sound of the people's voices in her ears, as they chanted her name.


	3. Professor Moody

Chapter Three – Professor Moody:

Astoria scooped porridge into her mouth with one hand and held a copy of the second-years' schedule in her other. She ran her eyes down the list. From beside her, Melissa groaned, "Urg, Double Potions today, right after breakfast."

"You never know," chirped Sara, "maybe Professor Snape has gotten better."

Astoria choked on her mouthful of porridge.

"And we're still with the Slytherins," Melissa added dolefully.

Astoria swallowed her porridge and felt it slump in her stomach like a rock. Even Sara's face looked slightly less cheerful. It was not that Astoria particularly disliked Potions – in fact, she thought she might actually enjoy it, if it was not for a couple of factors not in its favor.

One was the Potions Master, Professor Snape, whom was secretly everyone's least favorite teacher – they were all just too afraid of him to say that out loud. He had yellow skin and yellow teeth, black eyes, black hair and wore swooping black robes. He was unpleasant and sarcastic and generally gave the impression he was concocting thousands of way in which to kill one when he was staring at them. He also only ever gave good marks to his house: Slytherin.

The second reason Astoria disliked Potions was that the Ravenclaws happened to attend it _with_ the Slytherins.

Which ordinarily would not have been a problem except that Astoria was _not_ a Slytherin and her sister _was_ and somehow the rest of the Slytherins seemed to _know that_.

"What else do we have?" said Sara.

"Transfiguration after lunch," said Melissa with another groan. Nowhere near as bad as Potions, but the Transfiguration teacher, Professor McGonagall, was very strict and not apt to offer clemency should they not be paying attention to her class due to a taxing Potions lesson beforehand. "And then Charms after that."

"Well at least Professor Flitwick isn't so bad," said Sara. "When do we have Defense class? I want to see what Professor Moody's like."

"Tomorrow, after History of Magic," said Astoria, pushing away her empty porridge bowl and holding up her schedule so she could read.

Melissa shivered, "I don't know…he scared me. I've heard that half of Azkaban is full because of him."

"It isn't as though he's going to try to throw you in Azkaban," said Astoria.

"Still," she said, "I don't know why Professor Dumbledore got him. I've never heard of Moody wanting to _teach_ before."

"Maybe it's always been a secret desire of his, or something," said Sara with a shrug and a smile. "Come on, better hurry or we'll be late to Potions."

They gathered their things and made their way towards the dungeons. Students bustled past them on their way to classes of their own. Astoria saw her sister through a crowd of older Hufflepuff's.

Daphne caught sight of Astoria and called her over.

Astoria excused herself from and wove her way toward Daphne. "Daphne I can't be late," she said when she got there. "It's the first day and Potions –"

"I'll be quick," said Daphne. She was standing with two of her friends that Astoria had met on previous occasion. They were Sophie Roper and Tracey Davis and otherwise engaged in conversation and not paying any attention to the sisters.

Daphne still pulled Astoria a little ways away, "So, what did you think about last night?"

Astoria shrugged. She didn't think anything about last night that might warrant being late for Potions, but she didn't tell that to Daphne.

"It's brilliant about the Triwizard Tournament –"

"Yes," said Daphne impatiently, "But what about Moody? What did you think about him being the new Defense Professor?"

Astoria had been hearing about the ludicrous antics of Mad-Eye Moody for most of her life, but knew of nothing that would warrant this cryptic tone.

"I thought it was really irresponsible of Dumbledore," said Astoria "if that's what you're hoping I'd say." She then looked behind her shoulder, hoping Moody wouldn't be anywhere in sight and wondering if he had a magical ear as well as eye.

"Good, I'm glad you think that" said Daphne. "Just – stay out of his way, alright? Moody is really dangerous. Watch out for him, alright?"

"What do you mean?" said Astoria. She knew Moody was paranoid and more than a little spell-happy, but _dangerous_? It seemed like a very strong word, but a specific one.

"Yeah," said Daphne uncomfortably, "just keep your head down in class. Don't give him any reasons to get you in trouble. Alright?"

"Alright…" said Astoria, uncomfortably feeling like Daphne wasn't telling her something.

"When do you have him, anyway?" said Daphne.

"Erm – tomorrow," Astoria answered. She was interrupted when one of Daphne's friends flounced over.

It was Sophie Roper, a flaunting, simpering girl, "Come on, Daphne," she said. "We'll be late for class."

"I should go, too," said Astoria. Sophie Roper didn't seem to notice her.

"Okay," said Daphne, "take care."

Astoria left and hastened to make it down to the dungeons in time. She arrived out of breath but just as Professor Snape was ushering them into the classroom.

She took seats with Sara and Melissa.

"Silence," said Professor Snape as the classroom door swung shut with a clang. There had been no need for the order and Astoria felt the familiar feeling of dread sink in her stomach, like the door shutting had been one to her prison cell.

"To see how much information has leaked out of your sorry brains over the summer," Professor Snape continued, producing a collection of tiresome looking bundles of parchment, "we will begin with a test."

Astoria trickled out of the Potion's classroom two hours later with her head pounding. Following the test, Snape had treated them to an hour long lecture on the swelling solution – what they would be working on this half of term – and then bid them class over, have a foot and a half on the properties of Boomslang skin next Tuesday.

"What a way to start the term," said Sara, her morning perkiness finally dissolved. "I hope that doesn't speak of what the rest of the year is going to be like."

"Don't even say that," said Melissa.

"Oh well," said Sara, "we should cheer up. At least we'll have the Triwizard Tournament to look forward to."

"Yeah," said Astoria. "what students do you think will try for it?"

"Probably most who are old enough," said Sara. "I mean, glory and riches are pretty strong stimulus."

"Yeah, but death and maiming are pretty strong cons," Melissa put in.

Sara sighed, "What I could do with one-thousand galleons…. I don't want to even think about what that is in Muggle money."

"–As if you could ever win," scoffed a voice from behind them. Astoria whirled around. She had been afraid of this, another reason why she disliked Potions, another reason why she disliked Slytherins: Livonia Mentang and Eris Platinous. Completing the group was Europa and Charon Shale, twins although not identical, whom never did much to make them anything more than cronies.

It was Livonia Mentang whom spoke, blond hair swinging in a tail behind her head and lips curled in a smirk. "A Muggle-born like you shouldn't even think about winning a _wizards'_ competition."

Astoria had set apart time during the summer to think of comebacks to some of Livonia's more obvious ploys. She found each and every one of them flying away from her grasp in the heat of the moment.

"Like you could win, either," Astoria snapped. "You would get flattened five seconds into the first task."

"As if _you_ would last longer," Livonia shot back, turning her burning blue-eyes on Astoria. Behind Livonia, Eris Platinous rolled her eyes.

"Erm, not to sound like a downer," said Sara, "but isn't this argument completely illogical? It isn't as though we could enter even if we wanted too. Besides, we probably _would_ all be flattened five second in."

"You don't know anything about it, Muggle-born," Livonia spat. They were climbing their way back up to the entrance hall. Astoria wondered how much trouble she would get into if she pushed Livonia down the stairs.

"Yeah?" said Sara, showing surprising bravado as she stopped half-way up the stairwell and turned to look Livonia in the face, "well there are plenty of things _you_ don't know about that I do!"

Livonia laughed, "Nothing of importance."

"Well what's the first nine digits after the decimal in pi?" Sara demanded.

"_What_? Said Livonia, then looked angry at herself for saying anything at all.

"Its one-four-one-five-nine-two-six-five-three!" said Sara triumphantly.

"You call that something of importance?" said Livonia, voicing what Astoria had been thinking but unwilling to say.

Sara bristled, "Pi is incredibly important – it – it's used to find the area of circles and without it we wouldn't have radians –"

"Isn't pie just a pastry stuffed with fruit?" said Europa Shale.

Eris rolled her eyes again, clearly she was unimpressed with the way her friends had come out for she grabbed Livonia's wrist and yanked her up the stairs, "Come on, Livonia. Let's just go." Eris pulled Livonia passed Sara, Astoria, and Melissa on the stairs. The Chale twins followed meekly after them. Astoria shot Eris a scowl as she passed.

Astoria broke into the corridor that would lead them to the entrance hall just as she heard a patter of footsteps coming up the stairs behind her. She pressed herself against the wall out of reflex, because whoever it was coming up the stairs sounded as if they were in a hurry.

Sara was not so lucky. She stepped off the top stair just a tall boy, with a pale, pointed face and a mop of white-blond hair, raced up after her. Draco Malfoy shoved Sara unceremoniously to the side.

"Hey!" she cried.

Draco Malfoy footsteps pounded down the corridor and his black robes whipped around his ankles. Something was held tightly in his fist. No doubt he had just come from the Slytherin common room.

"Weasley! Hey Weasley!" drifted his voice back to them, echoing loudly and triumphantly.

"Why, the _nerve_!" Sara declared, rubbing her shoulder where she'd hit the wall. She hopped out of the way as Draco Malfoy's two hulking friends Crabbe and Goyle, whom seemed more bodyguards than anything else, followed after him. Both were breathing hard, faces flushed from exertion.

"You alright?" said Melissa quietly, appearing finally out of the back after the confrontation with Livonia and now this.

"I'm fine," said Sara, pouting and still rubbing her shoulder. "Where does he think he's going?"

Astoria could still hear Draco Malfoy's voice, echoing against the high ceiling of the entrance hall and down the corridor: "Your dad's in the paper, Weasley! Listen to this!"

"Come on," she said over her shoulder to Melissa and Sara, beginning to quicken her pace, "let's see what's happening."

She rounded the corner and came out into the entrance hall, where a crowd had gathered to go to lunch but been held up the commotion at the doors to the Great Hall.

There was Draco Malfoy, flourishing a crinkled copy of the _Dailey Prophet_, confronting a tall boy with hair as flaming red as his face, accompanied by to friends, a girl and Harry Potter. Astoria recognized Harry Potter immediately. She had seen him only a handful of time during her first-year but everyone knew what he looked like: black hair, strikingly green eyes, and round glasses.

Draco Malfoy began to read off his copy of the _Prophet_, "Further mistakes at the Ministry of Magic:

"It seems as though the Ministry of Magic's troubles are not yet at an end, _writes Rita Skeeter, special Correspondent. _Recently under fire for its poor crowd control at the Quidditch World Cup, and still unable to account for the disappearance of one of its witches, the Ministry was plunged into fresh embarrassment yesterday by the antics of Arnold Weasley, of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office."

Malfoy stopped reading to crow, "Imagine them not even getting his name right, Weasley. It's almost as though he's a complete nonentity, isn't it?"

Beside Astoria, Sara gasped, "How mean! That's a terrible thing to say!"

Astoria didn't know how to reply. Draco Malfoy's antics did seem distinctly below the belt. But he had a point. If the _newspaper_ didn't get one's name right it did seem like one was rather…unimportant. Astoria's mother's name had been in the paper several times, as a prominent member of the Wizengammot. The Prophet had always gotten _her_ name correct.

Malfoy was speaking again, reading off of the paper, "Mr. Weasly appears to have rushed to the aid of "Mad-Eye" Moody, the aged ex-Auror who retired from the Ministry when no longer able to tell the difference between a handshake and attempted murder. Unsurprisingly, Mr. Weasly found, upon arrival at Mr. Moody's heavily guarded house, that Mr. Moody had once again raised a false alarm. Mr. Weasly was forced to modify several memories before he could escape from the policemen, but refused to answer _Daily Prophet _questions about why he had involved the Ministry in such an undignified and potentially embarrassing scene."

Astoria didn't care about Malfoy antagonizing Ronald Weasley. She knew from her sister that Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter were rivals, whom took every chance to hit one when the other wasn't looking. No doubt this was just another of those times.

She was interested, however, in the story about Mad-Eye Moody. She hadn't heard he'd almost been _arrested_. And yet, Dumbledore _still_ allowed him to teach.

"And there's a picture, Weasley!"' Malfoy concluded, flipping the newspaper and holding it up. "A picture of your parents outside their house – if you can call it a house! Your mother could do with losing a bit of weight, couldn't she?"

Sara gasped again. Ronald Weasley was trembling with rage. He looked as though steam might gush from his ears.

Harry Potter spoke up, murmuring as if he was conscious that everyone in the hall was listening intently, "Get stuffed Malfoy, C'mon, Ron…."

"Oh yeah, you were staying with them this summer, weren't you, Potter?" Malfoy sneered. "So tell me, is his mother really that porky, or is it just the picture?"

Harry Potter and his other friend, the girl with the bushy hair, had to grab the back of Weasley's robe to keep him from launching himself at Malfoy. In some wild and unconnected part of her brain Astoria wondered with a pitch of intrigue what would happen if Harry Potter and his friend let go of Weasley's robes. She had never seen a fight before, and would not have minded had Draco Malfoy's nose got flattened.

Although she would not contemplate ever saying it allowed. He was Draco _Malfoy_, after all.

Potter and his friend managed to pull Weasley away. Insults were exchanged and Astoria felt a trickling, miniscule feeling of disappointment when she realized there was not going to be a fight. Potter tugged his friends toward the Great Hall, turning his back on Malfoy. Malfoy drew his wand. Sara shrieked as a jet of light shot out from Malfoy's wand, brushing passed Potter's ear, whom whipped around –

"OH NO YOU DON'T, LADDIE!"

Astoria started and felt a gasp seep out of her lips. She blinked in shock and alarm. Standing where Draco Malfoy used to be was suddenly a pure white, shivering ferret. It had happened so quickly Astoria had not even seen the blur transfiguration.

She heard the thumping footfalls on the marble staircase and turned to Mad-Eye Moody limping towards the floor, wand outstretched and quivering with rage in his mangled hand.

Melissa bumped into Astoria as she backed away, shrinking from their enraged Defense Professor. Sara's eyes were popping and mouth hanging open in mute surprise. Astoria watched, unwilling to even blink lest she miss something.

"Did he get you?" growled Moody to Potter.

"No, missed."

"LEAVE IT!" Moody roared. Astoria felt Melissa jump.

Astoria saw one of Malfoy's friends – she thought it might have been Crabbe but couldn't really tell the two apart – stumble backwards from where he'd been about to pick of the ferret off the floor.

Draco Malfoy. The ferret on the floor. Astoria could not connect the two in her mind. Something caught in her throat, something that felt horrifyingly like laughter. She choked it down.

"Leave – what?" said Potter.

"Not you – him!" Moody jerked his thumb over his shoulder to Crabbe. Moody turned and began barreling towards the three Slytherins, wand outstretched, eye whirling madly in its socket. The hall watched in terrified, eager silence.

The ferret let out a horrified squeak and scurried away, toward Astoria and the corridor that lead to the dungeons.

Sara stumbled out of the way but Moody roared, "I don't think so!"

The ferret seemed to trip over its own feet, then it rose into the air, legs still moving as if it was unaware it had left the ground, and then pelted back towards the floor, hitting the stone with a smack.

Sara gasped in a mixture of shock and disgust. Astoria felt her mouth drop open. Several people shrieked.

"I don't like people who attack when their opponent's back's turned," Moody snarled as the ferret hit ground again and again. "Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do…."

Beside her, Astoria felt Sara move. Astoria's hand enclosed around Sara's upper arm, afraid perhaps she was going to rush forward to intervene.

"Never – do – that – again –" Moody punctuated each word with an exclamation point and a slam of the ferret to the ground. It flailed helplessly in the air, squealing.

"Professor Moody!" Astoria felt her stomach drop in relief. She saw Professor McGonagall running down the marble staircase, a pile of books in her arms.

"Hello, Professor McGonagall," said Moody. The ferret continued to hit the ground and fly into the air again.

"What – what are you doing?" McGonagall faltered, looking from Professor Moody, to the bouncing ferret, and to the surrounding students – some of whom were smiling quickly checked their expressions.

"Teaching," said Moody.

"Teach – Moody, _is that a student?_"

"Yep."

"No!" The books clattered to the floor and McGonagall flourished her wand. With a loud snap Draco Malfoy reappeared, in a shivering lump on the floor.

"Moody, we _never_ use transfiguration as a punishment! Surely Professor Dumbledore told you that?" McGonagall's chest heaved with breath. Her face was pale with anger.

Draco Malfoy's face was flushed red. He got to his feet slowly, shirking away from Moody, whom still stood before him with his wand drawn.

"He might've mentioned it, yeah."' Moody scratched his chin. "But I thought a good sharp shock –"

'"We give detentions, Moody! Or speak to the offender's Head of House!"' McGonagall cried.

"I'll do that, then," Moody growled.

Malfoy muttered something about "my father".

"Oh yeah?" Moody asked taking a step closer to Draco. "Well, I know you father of old, boy…. You tell him Moody's keeping a close eye on his son … you tell him that from me…. Now, your Head of House'll be Snape, will it?"

"Yes," Malfoy grunted unwillingly.

"Another old friend," Moody growled. "I've been looking forward to a chat with old Snape…. Come on, you…." He grabbed Malfoy by his upper arm and dragged him forward. Astoria pressed herself against the wall and out of the way as they swept passed. She averted her eyes. It would not do to make eye-contact, with either Moody or Malfoy.

For the space of a second there was not a sound in the entrance hall, then the students exhaled and voices rushed out all at once.

"Oh…my…goodness," said Sara.

Melissa squealed something indiscernible. Several students were laughing, most were muttering in low voices about what had just happened.

"Did you see his face?"

"Malfoy's or Moody's?"

"Good thing McGonagall stopped it."

"He's our _teacher_?"

"I've never seen something like that before," said Sara shakily. "If that's how Professor Moody punishes all his students then I'm not so sure he should be teaching here."

"That was _scary_," said Melissa.

"Malfoy could have really been hurt," said Astoria, not entirely certain if that mattered.

"But that was terrible what he was saying to that other boy," said Sara.

"Not really," said Astoria quickly, "everyone knows Malfoy hates Potter and Weasley – it didn't really mean anything."

"Come on," said Sara when the rest of the students began to disperse through the doors of the Great Hall. Astoria, Sara, and Melissa made their way to the Ravenclaw table.

Astoria saw Mark and Stephan sitting a little ways down from them. They were enthusiastically discussing what had just happened.

"That was bloody brilliant," said Mark.

"Yeah," Stephan agreed, "Malfoy won't be so high and mighty now."

"Do you think he deserved it?" Sara chimed in. "I mean, he was being mean but to be turned into a ferret and bounced off the floor…."

Mark laughed at the memory.

"Of course he deserved it," Stephan answered. "He's a stuck-up little bigot."

Astoria glared at him and Stephan's voice ebbed away. She had been expecting him to add something along the lines of _plus, he's a Slytherin pureblood_.

Sara shrugged, "I guess it's alright – at least McGonagall stopped it before it went too far."

"Can't wait until tomorrow!" said Mark.

"Just make sure you don't answer a question wrong," said Sara, laughing, "else it'll be you bouncing on the floor."

Astoria began to eat her lunch. She remembered what Daphne had told her that morning, to watch out for Professor Moody. Astoria wondered if _this_ was what her sister had meant by _dangerous_.

* * *

The next day, mid-morning, Astoria sat in-between Sara and Melissa and faced the front of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. The classroom itself looked unassuming: there was a desk and a blackboard and a window letting in a stream of sunlight. Standing in front of the rows of second-years, however, was Professor Moody.

Large and menacing he stood before them, swathed in a dark cloak and magical eye whirling to each students' face in turn. Astoria felt a shiver of anticipation when it swept over her.

Professor Moody began the class with a roll call, "Ackerley, Derek."

"Here, sir," answered Derek Ackerley, a boy whom shared a dormitory with Mark and Stephan. He sounded tense and excited; he leaned forward over his desk.

"Andrews, Jessie."

"Present."

He ran down the list of students' names, eye spinning.

Astoria clenched her new Defense book in her hands, feeling sweat collect beneath her palms and onto the glossy surface of the cover.

"Greengrass, Astoria."

"Present, sir."

A beat of silence and, "How's your father, Greengrass?"

Astoria looked up. She felt gooseflesh erupt over her arms as she saw Moody's eye was trained on hers – his normal one, the magical one was still whizzing over the room.

"My father…?" she heard her voice escape her lips but became pointedly aware that no, she had not misheard Professor Moody. "My father's dead, sir."

Another heartbeat of silence in which Astoria felt Moody's magical eye stop roving about the room and focus on her. She felt the other Ravenclaw second-years attention pique and heard the ruffling of robes and hair as they turned to stare at her.

"Sorry to hear that, Greengrass. Hibburt, Sara."

"What? I mean – here, sir!"

Moody's eyes left her. Astoria felt her shoulders slump as if his gaze had been physically holding her to attention. She didn't realize until then how quickly her heart had been thumping. She wondered if the other students could hear it, if they were still staring at her. Surely they were; she could feel each of their eyes as they grazed the back of her head.

Her father. How was _her father_? Her father was dead. Astoria realized she had never said that aloud, never that actual sequence of words. Her father was dead.

Astoria father's name was Hyperion Meliflua. She had never met him. He was dead. He had died when Astoria was five-years-old. He had died in Azkaban, sentenced there for life for the crimes of a Death Eater. All of these were facts, insurmountable, irrefutable facts.

She wondered why Professor Moody cared. She wondered how he didn't already know. More than that she wondered how he had known that – that Hyperion Meliflua had been married to Lyra Greengrass when Lyra Greengrass had always kept her maiden name.

Astoria wondered how Professor Moody had known Hyperion Meliflua was her father.


	4. Explanations

Author's Note: half-way through I was envisioning scenes of Elsa and Anna from _Frozen_.

* * *

Chapter Four – Explanations:

The Defense Against the Dark Arts class was pressingly silent as Professor Moody began his lecture. He explained the differences of the verdimillious duo and the vermillious duo and then had two boys stand up and try to demonstrate.

Astoria did not listen.

She stared straight ahead at the blackboard and wondered…she wondered. She wondered about Daphne, how she had warned her against Professor Moody. She wondered about Professor Moody and what exactly he _meant_. She wondered just what kind of a man Hyperion Meliflua had been.

She felt the other students staring at her. She saw out of the corner of her eye as the students in the row ahead of her shot looks over their shoulders to stare at her. She felt her book held tightly in her hand, felt the cover slip from sweat, and dug her fingernails into it to keep it from falling out of her grasp.

She wondered and wondered and wondered, mind racing to all kinds of possibilities that led to dead ends and more twisting avenues and more dead ends. Everything came crashing to a halt against that tall, hard, impenetrable wall in her mind because she just _didn't know_ –

Finally the bell rang. Astoria swiftly gathered her things and was the first to leave through the door, feeling the other students' eyes, imagining she felt Moody's magical eye watching her through the walls. She was half-way back to the Great Hall for lunch – not thinking of eating, she only knew that after Defense class she was supposed to go back to the Great Hall – when she became aware that Sara and Melissa were hastening behind her, trying to keep up.

"Astoria – wait," said Sara's voice.

Astoria did not want to. She wanted to run. She wanted to _know_. She didn't want their questions – questions she didn't know the answer too.

"Wait, please," Sara's fingers closed around Astoria's wrist and gently pulled her to a stop. Astoria turned to face Sara and Melissa, heart thumping beneath her chest, and not knowing what had happened, not understanding, not knowing what it was she was suddenly feeling so upset about.

"Are you okay?" said Sara, brown eyes soft and concerned.

"I'm fine," said Astoria's lips. Why wouldn't she be fine? Nothing had happened that would make her _not_ fine.

"That was – what was that about?"

"I don't –" Astoria's tongue twisted; her words stumbled. "I don't know."

"Do you…I mean," Sara looked uncomfortable. Her face was turning red. Melissa hovered uncertainly behind her. "Do you know Professor Moody? Did your father –"

"No," said Astoria quickly. "I don't know."

"Was that," Sara shuffled from one foot to another. "Was that something Professor Moody should have said? I mean I – didn't know your father had died – I'm sorry."

"Don't be," said Astoria automatically. "I'm fine. He – died when I was little. It doesn't matter."

"Did you – want to talk about it?" said Sara.

"No. I'm fine." Astoria wondered if she had spoken too sharply. She couldn't tell. She didn't care. She wanted to _know_.

Daphne. Astoria wanted to talk to Daphne. Daphne…knew something. She had _warned_ Astoria. She had told Astoria to keep her head down in Moody's class. Moody was dangerous. Daphne _knew something_.

Astoria distractedly realized she was walking towards the Ravenclaw table again. Sara and Melissa were following closely behind. Then Astoria was sitting down, she was scooping something onto her plate, shoveling it into her mouth.

_How's your father, Greengrass?_

_My father's dead._

_Sorry to hear that. _

He hadn't sounded sorry. He had sounded cold and emotionless, Astoria imagined triumphant.

She shut her eyes, trying to clear away the noise of the Hall, the clanking silver wear, the voices and laughter of the other students. She needed quiet, some silence so that she could _think._

"Come on," said Sara almost hesitantly. "Astoria? We're going to be late for Herbology."

Astoria blinked to find her plate was empty. She wasn't aware of how much time had passed.

"Astoria?"

"Sure," she said quickly, conscious that Sara and Melissa were staring at her. Everyone was still staring at her. She looked over her shoulder to see the rest of the students were engaged in their meal, or else gathering their things to leave for class. She looked to the Staff Table but Professor Moody was nowhere in sight. She shuddered. She could feel his eye on the back of her head, always roving, always piercing; it was staring at her….

Sara and Melissa stood from the table. Astoria shook her head, trying to clear away the film of confusion that had draped itself over her mind. She stood and followed them, making an effort to appear cheerful and unconcerned.

They repotted shrieking mandrakes in double Herbology and then went back to the Great Hall for supper. Astoria did not recall speaking a word all through Herbology. Sara and Melissa, as though they sensed she wished to be left alone, had talked quietly within themselves, leaving Astoria out of it.

As soon as she got to the Great Hall she looked to the Slytherin table, trying to find her sister. Daphne was nowhere in sight. Perhaps her class had run late, perhaps it had ended early and Daphne had already eaten – the reasons didn't matter. Astoria _needed_ to talk to Daphne.

Again Astoria wasn't hungry. Again she ate solely because there was a platter of food in front of her. It was getting late and Astoria needed to start on Professor Snape's homework from yesterday but still she dawdled, watching for her sister at the Slytherin table.

Finally Astoria was forced to conclude that Daphne was not going to show up, and left for Ravenclaw tower with Sara and Melissa. She would simply have to talk to her sister the next day, first thing.

* * *

It took her hours to fall asleep that night and, as such, overslept her alarm. Breakfast was a hurried affair – she wasn't even able to check for Daphne at Slytherin – and then Astoria rushed off to class.

By lunch the wind had been let out of her sails. This side of the day, with Professor Moody's magical eye mercifully nowhere to be seen, what he had said in class didn't seem nearly so significant. Perhaps Sara was right. Perhaps Professor Moody had just known Astoria's father. Perhaps he didn't mean anything more by asking Astoria how he was then simply wanting to know how he was.

Except Astoria's father was dead. Except Astoria's father had been a Death Eater and Professor Moody an Auror and the only time they could have possibly known each other was back in the war, when both would have been on separate sides.

At dinner Astoria caught sight of Daphne's sheet of blond hair and worked up enough courage to step forward. Daphne was deep in conversation with her friends, and it took Astoria two clears of the throat and a tap on the shoulder to finally get her sister's attention.

"McGonagall's given us enough homework you'd think we were preparing for exams – yes, what is it, Tori?" Daphne sounded impatient. Behind her Sophie Roper pursed her lips.

"Can I talk to you, Daphne?"

"Yes, Tori, what is it?"

"–Privately?"

Daphne groaned, which Astoria thought was unfair given Astoria hadn't given much a fight when Daphne had called her over the day before. Astoria felt her stomach twisting as she led Daphne out of the Hall and into a corner of the entrance hall. She wondered how on earth she was supposed to voice what she'd come to ask – not even to ask, just to talk about, just to – to _say_ something.

"So?" said Daphne, crossing her arms.

It was not a very inviting front. Astoria pushed on, trying to gather her thoughts and ideas into something that Daphne would not simply brush off.

"Well I – I was in Defense Against the Dark Arts yesterday –" perhaps it was only Astoria's imagination or a flicker of a shadow, but she thought she saw Daphne's face darken, or maybe become a bit more somber. "And during roll call Professor Moody said something –"

"He didn't threaten you, did he?" said Daphne quickly.

Astoria stammered, "He – what? _Threaten_ me? No. Why would he?" She felt a familiar shiver run up her spine, the same that she had felt when Professor Moody's magical eye fell on her face.

Daphne suddenly looked uncomfortable. "He – I don't know. No reason – just, I had Defense class today – but, never mind. Tell me what you were going to."

Astoria watched Daphne's face, looking for anything she could hold onto in order to discover what she was skirting around.

"It was just that Professor Moody," Astoria started again, "well he – asked about Dad."

Daphne's expression did not change. She did not look surprised, or shocked, or alarmed. "What did he say?"

"He only – asked how was our father and then I told him he was dead," said Astoria – wondering because the whole thing sounded so silly but why had Daphne thought Professor Moody might _threaten_ her? "And then he said he was sorry."

Daphne nodded but didn't say anything. Astoria waited. She looked at her sister's face again, stared into her blue eyes and tried to make some kind of a connection.

"Daphne, what's going on?" she hadn't meant to sound so melodramatic. "What happened in Defense class with you today?"

Daphne chewed on her lower lip. Astoria could barely contain her impatience, but knew she mustn't say anything for Daphne was on the fencepost of telling Astoria or not telling her, and Astoria couldn't push too hard.

"Nothing," said Daphne finally. "Nothing really – just some – Professor Moody just had this _way_ about him. Like maybe he'd change us all into ferrets if we stepped out of line." There was no joke in Daphne's voice. "I was just wondering if he had treated all the classes like that or just us because we're – you know – Slytherins. He seemed especially fierce toward Theo and Malfoy. And I thought that might have been because their fathers were both thought to be Death Eaters –"

"But neither of their fathers were convicted," said Astoria before she could stop herself, pieces finally starting to fall together. She suddenly felt very cold. "And our father was."

Daphne swallowed. "Astoria – I shouldn't tell you this but – Mum took me aside during the summer, and…." Daphne hesitated. "It's Moody – Professor Moody."

"What about him?" Astoria couldn't stand it. She felt her pulse racing in her neck, felt her fingers shake and clenched them tightly at her sides.

"He," Daphne started again, "well he's the Auror that caught Dad."

Astoria didn't know what she was supposed to say. There was silence for a moment as Daphne seemed to allow Astoria to absorb the information. Astoria didn't know what she was supposed to think. She didn't know how she was supposed to feel about that – towards Professor Moody.

"That's why you need to keep your head down in his class," Daphne continued. "Just don't give him any reasons not to like you."

"But I _haven't_ given him any reason and he already doesn't like me," said Astoria, something she couldn't quite hold onto was swirling in her mind, making her dizzy. She wondered for the clenched feeling in her throat that made it difficult to speak. She looked over her shoulder, again feeling Moody's eye on the back of her head.

He wasn't there.

Of course he wasn't there.

"Well," said Daphne slowly, "hopefully he won't make anything more out of it. If he does be sure to tell me and I'll write Mum."

"Couldn't we just go to Dumbledore?" said Astoria. "I mean, isn't that not right – persecution or something?"

"Astoria," said Daphne, almost rolling her eyes. "We _can't_ go to Dumbledore. Dumbledore _hired_ Moody. Do you think he'd be on our side?"

Astoria chewed on her lip. She hadn't thought about that. She hadn't thought about any of it. She suddenly felt horribly enclosed, as if the walls to the entrance hall were closing in on her. She felt suddenly trapped.

But nothing had happened. Nothing was going to happen. Professor Moody wasn't going to say anything else. Astoria hadn't anything to worry about.

"But what does it all mean?" she said hesitantly. "Why would Moody still care? I mean – how was Dad even captured, anyway?" Immediately Astoria wondered if that was something she should have said. Astoria didn't know what Daphne felt about their father; they had never really talked about it much. Besides, she didn't know how much more about it Daphne knew.

Daphne frowned. "I don't know. But I've been…wondering…." Daphne's voice evaporated into the silence of the entrance hall. Astoria hesitated but for once decided perhaps she would not ask.

Suddenly the squirming feeling of nervousness she had been feeling changed into a pulsing sensation almost like anger. Astoria thought of her father, dying alone in Azkaban, thought about how she had never known him, and thought about Professor Moody – who had caught him, perhaps hurt him, perhaps dragged him to Azkaban to rot, bathing in the essence of dementors….

"Just – don't let Mum know I told you, alright?" Daphne added.

Astoria was brought abruptly back to the conversation, "Why doesn't Mum want me to know?"

Daphne looked uncomfortable again, "Well – you know – because you're…younger. Astoria, don't look like that. Mum just wants to protect you."

Protect her? Protect her from the truth? Astoria could have been saved so much trouble if she had just known this _before_. Perhaps she would have been somewhat prepared – not so confused. Besides, Lyra Greengrass had deemed Daphne _old enough to know_, had she?

"Fine," said Astoria.

"Tori, please. Just be safe, alright?"

"I will, Daphne."

"And tell me if anything happens. If Professor Moody says anything else."

"Alright."

Then Daphne did something unexpected. She pulled Astoria into a hug, something the sisters had not done for a long time.

"Alright," said Daphne over Astoria's head. Astoria noted that she came up to Daphne's nose now. Daphne hadn't grown very much over the summer. "I've got to get back to dinner."

"Alright," said Astoria.

"See you around."

"Yeah."

* * *

When Astoria climbed into bed that night, Sara, whose bed was right beside Astoria's leaned over the space between mattresses and asked for what seemed like the tenth time if Astoria was alright.

"Yeah, I'm fine," said Astoria, staring up at the dark canopy of her four-poster and refusing to meet Sara's eyes, lest she be drawn into a conversation.

"I just – you've been quiet," Sara whispered so Tiffany and Aurora, whom were giggling in a corner, would not hear. Melissa was already curled up in bed with her curtains drawn. "I wanted to make sure."

"No, I'm fine," Astoria insisted, and felt the words tumble and twist until she practically had to force them off her tongue: "Thank you, though."

Sara was silent for a moment. Astoria began to think she had shaken her –

"How did your father die, Astoria?"

Astoria swallowed.

"I mean – you don't have to tell me. I'm sorry if that was too personal."

It was personal. Astoria had never told anyone how her father had died, before. It wasn't that she was ashamed – her father had been a Death Eater and he had died in prison – but that wasn't anything to be _ashamed_….

It just didn't seem like the kind of a thing to talk about, least of all with Sara, whom was a Muggle-born, and might not understand.

Death Eater. Her father had been a Death Eater. Death Eaters didn't like Muggle-borns. Sometimes Death Eaters killed Muggle-borns. Sara was a Muggle-born.

Astoria's father had been a Death Eater.

She wondered – for the first time she wondered – uneasily, unwillingly, just what her father had _done_ to get himself into prison. Had it been enough to be branded with the Death Eater's sign, given a mask and the robes? Or had he – had he perhaps actually done some of the horrible things Astoria had heard of Death Eaters doing.

Had he tortured? Had he killed? Had he – murdered? Had he done so to Muggles and Muggle-borns, impure, defiling creatures whom perverted the magical way of life? Like Sara, Astoria's friend?

Astoria shut her eyes quickly as horrible, gruesome, terrifying pictures began to whirl in her head. Screaming faces, under the point of her father's wand, lifeless bodies, gleaming masks, fire leaping into the air as it had done at the campsite after the World Cup, the Dark Mark – glowing green in the air, writhing, signifying murder –

"Astoria?"

Astoria's eyes snapped open, and she felt beads of moisture left on her cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Astoria. I hadn't meant to…offend you, or anything –"

"No," said Astoria quickly, trying to gather herself, trying to erase pictures of lifeless bodies, tiny, thin, brown-haired, open-eyed bodies that wore Ravenclaw blue and bronze. "Don't be. I just – I don't really know if I want to talk about it."

"Oh, okay," said Sara hastily. "That's fine. That's totally fine. Sorry. If you ever want to though – you now, talk about it – I'm here, okay?"

"Okay," said Astoria, not knowing how to respond. She buried herself further under her covers, feeling cold and shivery as she had in the entrance hall, when she'd been talking with Daphne.

"Good-night, Astoria."

"Good-night, Sara."

* * *

Author's Note: Really short chapter this time. Sorry. I ran out of material that could fit into the context and couldn't take any of the other stuff I'm saving for later. I hope you enjoyed it, though. I'll be taking a temporary – very temporary – hiatus as I try to conjure up some more inspiration in-between school and what remains of a social life.

Thank you for any reviews; they're very much appreciated.

Also, I recently uploaded a one-shot about Pansy Parkinson entitled _Innocents_ which can be found on my profile page. I'm rather proud of it and sort-of disappointed with the lack of traffic it's been receiving so I'd be oh-so-grateful if you went to check it out and left a comment.

Shameless self-promotion out of the way, thank you again for all your support. 3


	5. Research

Author's Note: …wow…that was…a really long time between updates. I really apologize for that. Given the whirlwind of school, work, play and M*A*S*H that make up _life_, this story was kind of lost in the shuffle.

_But_, I'm back now, not entirely sure if I'll be back next week, but I assure you I will eventually get to the end of this story (I'm hoping and planning for seventeen chapters). Then I'll probably be taking another break before I start posting the third book in the series.

Anyway, thank you for your patience and any reviews.

* * *

Chapter Five – Research:

On Friday, Astoria was more than glad to see the end of the first school week. School seemed much harder than she remembered since first-year, but perhaps that was only because she wasn't used to it yet after holiday.

Even so, she was relieved when the last bell rang and she shut her Transfiguration book. Professor McGonagall released them, warning them to get their homework done over the weekend, and Astoria headed toward the Great Hall with Sara and Melissa.

"The first week back always feels the longest," said Sara sagely. "I'm so happy it's the weekend."

"But we've got so much homework," Melissa groaned. "A foot-and-a-half from Sprout, two feet from McGonagall, we have got to practice the Engorgement Charm for Flitwick –"

"Don't worry so much, Melissa," said Sara. "We'll get it done."

"_And_ we've got that essay for Professor Snape to finish –"

Ahead of them in the entrance hall, Astoria could see the start of the queue for dinner. Bobbing between the students was a girl with bushy, brown hair. She approached Astoria's group. Astoria was shocked and taken aback, because surely this was that Muggle-born friend of Harry Potter's – whatever her name was – and what was she doing about to talk to _Astoria_….

"Hello, I'm Hermione Granger," said the girl, clearly and business-like, sounding as if she was about to launch into a prepared speech.

Sara blinked, evidently just as surprised as Astoria was. "Oh, hello, I'm Sara Hibburt, this is Melissa –"

"I'm president and founder of the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare," here the girl brandished a little cardboard box she was holding; whatever was inside rattled. "Tell me, do you know who cooks your food? Do you know who keeps the castle tidy? Who keeps the fires burning in your common rooms and cleans the sheets on your beds?"

"I…don't know," said Sara. "I always assumed it was done magically…."

"Well," Hermione Granger continued as though she had not been interrupted. "I am here to inform you that it is, in fact, hoards of enslaved, overworked, underdressed house-elves that keep you warm and well-fed at Hogwarts. Elf enslavement goes back for centuries; the earliest case was in 1297, when Selene Soronac hired hit-men to kidnap some fifteen house-elves and then forced them to work as maids, cooks, and gardeners on her island retreat in the Mediterranean – under threat of imprisonment or death. Since then, enslaving house-elves has become a sign of wealth and prestige among wizard-kind. Thousands of house-elves have died while in forced servitude of their wizard masters, they or their children never tasting even the hope of freedom. I am here to tell you that this shameful, atrocious, and demeaning treatment of our fellow magical beings must be stopped. Our short-term aims are to secure house-elves fair wages and working conditions. Our long-term aims include changing the law denying house-elves the use of a wand, and securing a position for an elf in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Indoctrination in the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare costs only two sickles, and includes a badge signifying your whole-hearted agreement toward out cause" (she rattled the box again) "and full membership benefits, which include access to our meetings – every Wednesday in the Library at five o'clock – and democrat privileges to vote in our officers, perhaps even the opportunity to become an officer, yourself, if you should so be nominated."

Hermione Granger stopped and beamed, taking off the lid of the box and revealing a collection of different colored badges, each emblazoned with the word S.P.E.W.

Astoria stared at her. She discovered her mouth had slipped open and she hastily shut it. She tried to sort through and discover the important parts in the prattle.

"What does S.P.E.W. stand for?" said Sara, breaking the silence.

Clearly that had not been what Hermione Granger had been expecting nor would have like to hear. She frowned. "Well, I've just told you, haven't I? It is the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare. We stand for the liberation and full emancipation of house-elves under wizard law. And it isn't _spew_."

Astoria discovered she was frowning. The Greengrass's had kept a house-elf for as long as Astoria could remember. Her name was Brownie and she did the cooking, cleaning, and gardening – but of course she was not _enslaved_. Just because the Astoria's mother didn't pay the house-elf, didn't mean she was enslaved. Besides, Astoria had never heard Brownie _complain_.

"So," said Sara, "it's house-elves who do the cooking and cleaning around Hogwarts?" Astoria recognized that mingled look of curiosity and innocence on Sara's face, and felt her shoulders slump. Being Muggle-born, Sara very often believed everything she heard from other wizards, even if what she heard was misconceptions or exaggerations.

Hermione Granger nodded vigorously. "They live in the kitchens, work through the night, are not recognized for their work, and are forbidden to wear clothes –"

"That's terrible," said Sara, face blanching in disbelief. "And Headmaster Dumbledore allows it?"

Hermione Granger nodded tersely, eyebrows furrowing. "I'm afraid so. And if you find these facts to be as troubling as I do, I implore you: these atrocities must come to an end! Can I interest you in a badge – only two sickles and receive full membership benefits –"

Sara looked to Astoria, and must have been stopped by something she saw in her face, for her smile disappeared. She turned back to Granger and said uncertainly, "I don't know…."

Granger looked slightly let-down at the prospect of losing a promising client. "Please," she said with renewed ferocity, rattling the box of pins beneath Sara's nose, "surely you do not _condone_ this inhumane treatment of house-elves?"

"Well, no," said Sara, glancing again toward Astoria, "But, well, I don't know."

"What about you?" said Granger, turning to Melissa, who cowered. "Do you care about the shameless degradation of our fellow magical beings?"

"Well I –" stammered Melissa. "Of course I –"

"Then I implore you!" said Granger. "Is not two sickles worth it to help better the lives of house-elves?" She turned to stare at Astoria, shaking the box of badges. Astoria unconsciously took a step backward.

"I – er," but was not completely sure of what she was supposed to say.

She knew Daphne wouldn't like it. In fact, Astoria, herself, didn't like it. House-elves didn't need to be freed. They probably didn't want to be freed. Everyone would laugh at her if they knew Astoria had joined such an organization. "I don't have any money on me…."

"Well," said Granger, smile quickly and alarmingly fixed back on her face, "I can put you down on my list for promising payment –"

"No," said Astoria quickly. "Don't do that."

Granger frowned.

Sara piped up, "Aren't you Harry Potter's friend?"

Granger turned back to Sara, smile flickering. "Yes, but that doesn't really have anything to do –"

"Is that cool?" said Sara enthusiastically, "I mean, being the friend of the Boy Who Lived? That must be _so_ cool – absolutely brilliant –"

"Wait," said Astoria. "Do you mean that _Harry Potter_ approves of this organization?"

"He is secretary…" said Granger.

"Do you mean we might get to meet him if we came to meetings?" said Sara, eyes popping.

"Yes, but," Granger seemed to be getting impatient, "that's completely beside the point. S.P.E.W. is about the bettering of the lives of house-elves for the house-elves' sake, simply because we as human beings should strive for the betterment and inclusion of all magical beings and creatures. Whether or not Harry would be at meetings shouldn't matter –"

But it did matter. In fact, should Daphne realize that Harry Potter approved of Spew, she would perhaps be even more adamant against Astoria joining.

Not that Astoria had even considered joining, of course.

"Erm – no, sorry," said Astoria, grabbing Sara's arm. "I don't think we're interested."

Granger's face fell but she still looked determined. Astoria wondered if she, Sara, and Melissa were the first students Granger had managed make listen to her for more than a few minutes.

"Yeah, sorry," echoed Sara, allowing Astoria to pull her away. Melissa hastened to catch them up, latching onto Sara's other arm.

Granger called after them, "How would you like it if it was you who were enslaved and someone who could do something about it decided not to?" but her voice was lost amongst the chatter of the students coming to dinner.

Sara looked troubled.

"Do you think that's true?" she said, "What she said about Headmaster Dumbledore allowing house-elves to clean up after us and not paying them?"

Astoria shrugged. She had heard worse things about Dumbledore. Besides, it wasn't as though keeping house-elves was unethical. _Someone_ had to do the cooking and cleaning.

"Don't worry about it," said Melissa softly.

"Are house-elves really treated as slaves?" said Sara. "I mean – that's terrible. Maybe I should join…."

"Don't waste your money," said Astoria firmly.

"Well, if you're sure," said Sara.

Mercifully, she dropped it. Astoria had been afraid this might be one of those topics that she and Sara might disagree on – like about werewolves from last year, or, more recently, the way Draco Malfoy had been treated by Professor Moody.

Astoria looked to the staff table as she, Sara, and Melissa took their seats at Ravenclaw table. Professor Moody was nowhere to be seen. Astoria rarely saw him around the castle, which she was glad of. Still, she occasionally imagined the unsettling feeling of his magical eye on her back, but she was beginning to believe that those were just nerves.

Perhaps he was not out to get her, as she had first been afraid of.

In fact, thinking like that now seemed slightly childish and melodramatic. Surely there would be no more trouble from Professor Moody. Still, Astoria couldn't hide the fact that she was still slightly anxious about the next time she would be in his class. She wondered if he might ask her anything else about her father.

She wondered if she might find anything else out about their past relationship.

She was afraid Professor Moody might let slip in class that Hyperion Meliflua had been a Death Eater. Because she had come to the decision – although of course she didn't care if they _did_ – that, really, her classmates didn't have any business knowing who her father was or what he had been.

It was her secret to keep as she so pleased. And Professor Moody hadn't any right spilling it before the whole class.

After dinner, Sara led them back out of the Great Hall. Astoria turned when she heard her named called. She caught sight of Daphne rushing from the Slytherin table and toward Astoria.

"You guys go on," said Astoria – always slightly anxious about meeting her sister with Sara and Melissa. "I'll be right up."

Daphne met Astoria in the entrance hall and pulled her briefly away from the crowd. Astoria realized her heartbeat had accelerated. She wondered what Daphne had to say, and whether or not anything else had happened involving Moody.

But Daphne's face looked quite calm, if not slightly embarrassed. "What are you doing tomorrow?"

"I – er – nothing, I don't think."

"Good," said Daphne. "Will you meet in the library after breakfast?"

"What for?" said Astoria.

"You'll find out when you get there," said Daphne. "Anyway, will you come?"

Wondering at the formalities – because surely Daphne could have just casually asked Astoria tomorrow – but also wondering that Daphne wanted to spend a Saturday, or at least part of a Saturday, with Astoria instead of her friends, Astoria readily obliged.

"Good," said Daphne. "See you tomorrow." And she rushed away, back toward the Slytherin table.

Astoria stood in the corner for a moment, trying to think what Daphne might want to do, and trying to convince herself that it didn't have anything else to do with Professor Moody. She noticed that Hermione Granger was still dashing about the entrance hall, now stopping students on their way back to their common rooms. She seemed to be impeding primarily younger students, around Astoria's age – perhaps she thought they would be easier to convince.

Astoria sighed and kicked herself into motion. She trotted most of the way back up to Ravenclaw Tower, wanting to catch up to Sara and Melissa. She found them in the common room, huddled in a corner with Mark and Stephan and playing Exploding Snap.

Astoria figured that she would not be welcome, and rather than try to include herself and create a scene, she climbed up to the second-year dormitory and shut herself in her bed. Maybe she could catch up on some reading – or try to puzzle out what Daphne might want to talk about.

At least attempt to keep her thoughts from again and again straying to Professor Moody and Hyperion Meliflua.

* * *

Astoria arrived in the library earlier than Daphne had directed, skipping breakfast altogether in favor of discovering what her sister had to talk about. As such, Daphne had not yet arrived and Astoria had to wait. The library was entirely empty – save the foreboding Madame Pince on her never ending bout against dust and fingerprints – and Astoria took a table by a window, those that were usually taken by students higher up in the pecking order.

Sunlight streamed through the panes. It was a beautiful day. When she had told Sara and Melissa that she would be occupied this morning, the girls had said they would be spending it outside with Mark and Stephen. This made Astoria feel…oddly resentful that Daphne had asked her to meet.

But it wasn't as though Astoria would be wanted, anyway, if Stephan were to be there.

But, if Astoria had been going then _Stephan_ would have stayed away.

Astoria sighed and looked up just as Daphne came in. She was on her own and seemed to have just finished swallowing her last bit of toast. It gave Astoria a vague sense of camaraderie to know Daphne had also appeared to have rushed to the library.

"Good, you're here," said Daphne when she reached Astoria's table.

As if she'd been afraid Astoria wouldn't be. Daphne did not sit down.

"So," said Astoria, "what did you want me for?"

Daphne continued to stand. She didn't seem able to decide what to do with her hands. She kept twisting them in front of her or twiddling with her robes or sticking them in her pockets. Astoria didn't know quite what to make of her sister. She had seen Daphne uneasy before, but never to this degree of nervousness.

"Well I –" Daphne began, and paused to warn, "This sounds silly, Tori, and you don't have to do it if you don't want to – but I, well, I've been thinking lately and…."

"_And?_" prompted Astoria before she could stop herself.

Daphne frowned, "Well, I've been wondering. I mean, about Dad."

Astoria hadn't been expecting that – or perhaps she had been – dreading it rather. She wasn't entirely sure if she wanted to be doing any more wondering about her father.

"And I've been wondering if perhaps you and I might want to…I don't know…try to find out some information about him –"

"How?" said Astoria.

"Well, certainly not be asking Mum," said Daphne flatly. "I thought maybe we could," she waved her hands around to indicate the library, "try to look for information in here. They have old _Prophets_ archived, and plenty of school records…. I mean, haven't you ever thought about him, Tori? Haven't you ever wanted to know about who he was and what he did?"

Daphne's eyes were gleaming. She seemed to have forgotten or bypassed her discomfort. Astoria had not seen this part of her sister often, passionate and contemplative, wholly human. Her sister was almost alien to her.

"Well, I suppose," said Astoria. She didn't entirely know how she was supposed to answer. She didn't entirely know what she wanted, or wondered, or wished to find out. But she had rarely seen Daphne with so much yearning. She felt if she said no that she would surely be letting her sister down.

Daphne smiled. "Great – we could start today and then meet most weekends for a couple of hours, just to see what we could find…."

"We'll start today?" said Astoria, hesitantly rising from her table because Daphne was walking toward the section of the library where old newspapers and magazines were collected.

"Of course," said Daphne, shooting a look over her shoulder. "Why else do you think I wanted you to meet me here?"

And so they set to work. Daphne told Astoria to look for any newspapers with a date before 1981, during the war where news of their father might crop up in articles about Death Eaters. Privately, Astoria believed it was a rather morbid assumption but Daphne appeared to be quite enthusiastic about it.

Soon enough they had newspapers scattered all over the aisle floor. Madame Pince kept peaking between the shelves to try to discern what they were doing, because surely two girls sitting in an otherwise empty library – on a Saturday – when they might be outside or with friends were obviously up to something devious.

It might have been an hour – Astoria neck had long-time been cricked from flipping so many pages – before Daphne finally said, "Here, listen to this, Tori:

"Wizengamot official and Undersecretary to Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, Sir Orpheus Greengrass today announced his daughter's, newly-graduated from Hogwarts Lyra Greengrass, engagement to Hyperion Meliflua, son of longstanding legislative figures and philanthropists Amyntor and Gaia Meliflua. Their wedding is dated for late May, 1977."

"Is that –" but of course Astoria already knew the section was talking about her parents. There were few others named Lyra Greengrass and Hyperion Meliflua.

"I found it in the Personality section. Look," said Daphne, flipping the page so Astoria could see, "there's a picture and everything."

Astoria stared at the moving picture of her mother, young and pretty, waving at the camera. Around her waist was the arm of the man at her side. Astoria had seen pictures of her father before. Her mother had several albums hidden on the top shelf of her wardrobe – which Astoria was not entirely sure if she knew Astoria and Daphne had gotten into when they were younger –but she was not sure she had ever seen him looking quite so…youthful before.

He was beaming at the camera, and kept trying to kiss their mother's cheek – whom skirted him with a significant look Astoria knew well from reprimands. Astoria wondered if the black and white ink had something to do with the starkness of the couple, the clear-cut lines and smoothness of their angles.

They looked very happy together. Astoria smiled slightly.

Daphne folded the newspaper and put it to the side, separate from the other piles. Astoria wondered if perhaps her sister was planning on keeping it.

They both went on with their searching without another word.

Being a Ravenclaw, Astoria had a bad habit of not being able to stop herself from reading. It didn't matter the subject matter, she simply read. It was that reason why she kept being distracted from the task at hand and began pursuing other articles that had nothing to do with her father. She would be led on winding trails about robberies and murders that had happened over a decade and half ago, before she remembered she was searching for news of her father and would tear herself away.

_Juno Vance, mother of three and husband to Marcus Vance, was reported missing today to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Reportedly, Vance left her residence in Burnkenstor on Saturday, June 5__th__, for an early morning walk. A practice, we are told by neighbor to the Vances Withandra Whittaker, that was quite regular. _

_However, this time Vance did not return. Her husband reported Vance missing late afternoon of the same day, however, the DMLE could not report Vance officially missing until a twenty-four hour period had lapsed. _

_The DMLE has no leads at this time. When asked by the _Daily Prophet_ about her sister-in-law's disappearance, Magical Transportaion director Emmeline Vance had no other comment other than, "We'll get the […] who did it." Which prompted the question of whether or not Vance believed Juno Vance's disappearance was deliberately done by some sinister force. Vance replied, "Of course it's sinister, you morons. Now, get out of my way. I have better things to do than talk to reporters. _

(cont. p 6b)

"Astoria," said Daphne again. Astoria looked up, shocked to find she had once again been lost in an insignificant article despite her resolve not to. She wondered if Daphne was going to chide her.

But Daphne was again pointing to something on a page, her fingernail brushing a picture of a night sky. Astoria felt her stomach twist; hanging in the sky, sparkling and twisting like some perverted formation of stars, was the Dark Mark. It was colored in black and white in the picture but Astoria knew, had the paper been in color, the Mark would have been glowing green.

"Early this morning," Daphne read, "Muggle neighbors to James Higglebee were rudely awakened by this curious sign shining in the air above Higglebee's house. A Magical Law Enforcement Squad was summoned to the scene, as well as several Obliviators. Muggle interference and the Statute of Secrecy were taken care of by the Obliviators while the MLE Squad entered Higglebee's house, where they found him lying dead on his kitchen floor – obviously murdered. Signs of Dark Magic were apparent in causing his death.

Higglebee is a bachelor whom lives in East Kenton, and well-known owner of "Merchandise and Mothballs" of Diagon Alley. He has no surviving relatives or next-of-kin. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement has no leads at this time.

However, more puzzling than Higglebee's apparent murder is this sign the murderer perhaps left behind. Is it a calling card to the murderer? Is it, perhaps, a clue to the murderer's identity? We called in Head and Ministry Expert of Investigative and Forensic Magics Harrison Shaklebolt to get his take on this mysterious happenstance –"

Daphne stopped reading; she looked up at Astoria. "That must have been the first time the Mark was ever used," she said. Her voice sounded odd. They had been whispering the whole time they'd been in the library – lest be subject to Madame Pince's wrath – but this time Daphne's voice sounded low and almost awe-struck. Astoria felt another shiver run up her spine.

"What's the date on it?" Astoria asked, leaning over Daphne's arm so she could get a clearer look at the article.

"January twenty-first, 1971," said Daphne.

"So, Mum and Dad would have still been at Hogwarts…."

Daphne waved her away, "Yeah, of course they would have. I doubt Dad would have had anything to do with _this_."

Astoria wondered why Daphne had brought it up, then. Surely it wasn't important. Astoria tried to push the story of Higglebee's unexplained murder out of her head, tried to banish the picture of the Dark Mark hanging in the sky – which had conjured up memories of the Dark Mark blooming above the woods at the World Cup.

Daphne groaned and stretched, letting the newspaper on her lap flutter to the floor as she stood up. She arched her back, "Merlin, we've been here for hours, Tori. It's already after two – we've completely missed lunch."

Astoria stood up as well, finding her legs and back were stiff from sitting on the floor for so long. She checked her own watch and was equally surprised to see how late it had gotten. She'd only just realized how hungry she was. Her stomach growled audible.

"I guess we've done enough for today," said Daphne, looking at the mess of newspapers they had left on the floor.

"But we – didn't really find anything out," said Astoria, not knowing if that was a good or a bad thing. Almost unconsciously something had been growing in her chest while they searched, some unnamed, clawing thing that Astoria could only closely enough call yearning. She half-way didn't want to stop looking.

"Well," said Daphne, "I honestly didn't expect to on just the first day. We'll have to come back next Saturday to look more."

"Alright…" said Astoria.

"You go on," said Daphne dismissively. "I'll hang back to clean up."

Astoria hesitated. It didn't seem very much in Daphne's nature to stay behind to do the work that Astoria might otherwise help with – or be made to do entirely by herself. Yet, Astoria felt strangely like she should not press the point. She wondered again if Daphne was intending to keep their parents' engagement announcement, but didn't want Astoria to realize it.

Astoria took leave of her sister and made her way out of the library. Madame Pince watched her go with narrowed eyes, surely planning on jumping into the aisle as soon as Daphne left to survey the damage the sisters had wreaked.

Astoria rounded a corner outside the library and almost walked headlong into two familiar and unpleasant girls wearing Slytherin green.

"Ditched your Muggle-born friend, have you?" said Livonia Mentang, smirking.

"Haven't got anything better to do than study on a Saturday, I see," said Eris Platinous, smirking. Astoria wondered how the girls always had something ready to say. She wondered if they lied in bed at nights, thinking up insults in case they should bump into Astoria in the hall someday – like today.

"Maybe if you'd stuck with us we'd have let you hang out with us," said Livonia.

"Yes, that way you might actually have friends," said Eris.

"Maybe I'm glad not to be hanging out with you," snapped Astoria.

Eris's lip curled. Livonia laughed, "As if! Though I don't suppose, even if you had been sorted into Slytherin, we'd have liked you. I don't like smarmy little know-it-all bookworms."

"Yeah?" said Astoria, "We'll see how you like it when I have an upstanding position in the Ministry and your sweeping floors in a dress shop!"

"They don't let bloodtraitors into the Ministry, Greengrass," Eris hissed – just as Daphne came out of the library.

The affect was instantaneous. Livonia and Eris snapped their mouths shut. They looked horrified. Daphne came over to stand behind Astoria.

"You'd better watch your steps, second-years," she growled. Astoria looked up to see her sister's face transformed; her mouth was set in a straight line; her eyes were narrowed. "My mother's Lyra Greengrass – you've heard of her, have you? Well, you can be sure she can make it very difficult for anyone to get into the Ministry if her daughters ask her to do so."

Livonia visibly paled. Eris's face slackened.

"We didn't mean any harm – Daphne," Livonia said hastily. "Sorry we'll just – we'll just –"

Eris's hand enclosed around Livonia's wrist and both girls fled down the hallway, leaving Astoria and Daphne alone.

Astoria felt her cheeks burning. She looked at the floor. Daphne hadn't – Astoria hadn't needed Daphne to intervene.

"You shouldn't let them push you around, you know," said Daphne.

"I don't –" Astoria began.

"I'm just saying," Daphne continued. "You're pureblood – purer than they are, I'm sure. Plus, Mum has influence. They haven't any right to treat you like an infidel."

"They don't treat me –" Astoria tried again to object.

Daphne's hand lightly touched her shoulder, "Anyway," she cut Astoria off. "I should really go. Pansy will flip if I don't get back; she wanted me to curl her hair."

"Oh," said Astoria frowning. "Okay – see you next Saturday, then."

"Sure, see you, Tori," said Daphne, and left in the direction Livonia and Eris had – toward the Slytherin common room.

Astoria sighed and tried to smooth her ruffled pride. She set off to look for Sara and Melissa, inwardly knowing they would probably still be with Stephan and Mark and Astoria would end up spending the rest of the afternoon on her own.


End file.
